


Akatsuki eSports - A Pro Gaming Story

by NoticedKohai



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 201,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoticedKohai/pseuds/NoticedKohai
Summary: Months after freeing himself from a horrific situation that nearly cost him his life, Itachi is presented with the opportunity to seek happiness, independence, and healing. That doesn't mean he doesn't still carry the weight of his demons on his back, though. Real-life pro gaming AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a dream where members of the Akatsuki were players competing in the LCS Spring Split. After toying with a couple of ideas I figured it would make for an interesting story, and it was generally well-received on FanFiction. Now I'm posting it here since Ao3 is a thing that I never really indulged in. Still getting a hang of the formatting.
> 
> They're not playing a known game - it's something that I guess you could say it like a cross between _Dota 2_ and _Halo 5_. And all of the teams are basically _Naruto_ clans and teams groups together like how they are in the franchise, but the clan members aren't actually family because that would be kind of weird. This caused kind of a shitstorm with some people on FF, so just... Keep in mind that you're not omniscient. There is a method to my madness.
> 
> Edit: Because someone mentioned that this was difficult for non-esports fans, here's a quick guide on the lingo you'll probably come across in this story
> 
> Esports: Professional video gaming, essentially.  
> Scrim: A practice game between two teams.  
> Req/Requisition station: In _Halo 5: Guardians_ there are in-game stations in multiplayer that allow you to use weapons that you have unlocked during your time playing. They're tiered, so the better weapons are only accessible once you've accrued a certain number of points. This is basically the same thing.  
>  Buff: Making something more powerful, like a teammate. Can be used as a noun or a verb depending on context.  
> Strat: Strategy  
> Gank: An ambush  
> Farming: Basically, this is when you run around killing NPCs on the map to build up your level and get currency/points to get the items you want and deal more damage.  
> Meta: The current state of the game, such as drafting builds and stats. These change regularly in MOBAs.  
> Caster: A commentator, like with traditional sports. There are also analysts that will talk between games while players take a break.
> 
> I'm leaving out a lot, because there's a ton of slang to cover, but that about covers the big stuff.
> 
> Anyways. Let's get started.

Itachi furrowed his brow as if creating tension in his brow would create a filter for the coarse language that was streaming through his headset.

"God dammit! You playing with your _dick_ or something?!"

"Funny, I was just about to ask if you were hitting your triggers with your fucking balls, asshole."

Clearly sharing his sentiments, he could hear Shisui sigh despondently into his mic, "Guys, calm down – getting pissed at each other isn't helping. Itachi, drop a ward."

Sasuke and Baru both grumbled irritably to themselves, with Sasuke muttering a few more profanities under his breath, but both conceded to their captain and waiting for their respective respawns. With the click of his D-pad, Itachi selected an observer ward from his menu and watched it materialize onto the map and bounce into place.

The effect was almost instantaneous, with the shadowy part of the minimap brightening up to reveal one enemy running up to an ordinance while another was standing next to a requisition station, but there was a sudden shout in Itachi's ear that surely deafened him, and the rest of his teammates, just a moment before the end-game screen came up and "Blue Team Wins" flashed over the monitor.

They were the red team.

"Baru, what the _fuck_?!" Sasuke barked, yanking off his headset to glare angrily at the teammate that was sitting on the other side of Itachi.

The man's frown deepened, "I got fucking spawn-killed, what the shit do you want me to do!?"

"Alright, guys, we gotta get off the stage for the next teams," Shisui's voice rang with disappointment as he scooted back in his chair, already unplugging his controller from the system that sat vertical to his monitor, "Save it for the hotel."

Itachi wasn't so much disappointed as he was exasperated with their situation as he mirrored his friend's actions, carefully wrapping the wire around his hand before using a twist-tie to keep it from becoming unraveled. It wasn't a particularly big tournament, just a minor two-day event, though it was the fifth time they lost on just the first day, never even making it to semi-finals. Itachi hated laying blame on anyone, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that half of their team had attitudes that were very quickly dragging the team down like a couple of cement shoes.

As if to prove his point, Sasuke and Baru exchanged heated glares with one another while stomping down the stairs and across the stage that would lead them away from the show floor. Shisui pinched the bridge of his nose when he realized that they weren't going to do the customary post-game handshake, looking particularly exhausted, and followed after them with slumped shoulders.

He couldn't blame him for his unusually grim demeanor.

"Flicker!"

For the love of god –

Itachi watched one of the two event hosts scuttle up to Shisui's side before he could disappear into the section of the building that was reserved for players. The older man gave her an almost despairing expression, a silent plea for her to just leave him alone, but it seemed to fly right over her head, or she just chose to ignore it as she asked, "Could we steal you for just a minute for a quick post-match interview while the other teams set up?"

By that point Itachi had caught up to his teammate, and he met his gaze while rolling down his sleeves with a subtle nod. He turned back to the host, "I'll be more than happy to perform an interview," Itachi said with a pleasant smile that did nothing to betray how glum he felt, "Flicker needs to make an important phone call that cannot wait."

A light flush spread over the host's cheeks as their eyes met, though she looked torn over the offer. It was generally expected of the captains of both teams to spend a minute or two discussing their thoughts about the match results, but it wasn't by any means mandatory; it was more of a tradition than it was a rule.

After a few seconds of contemplation she shrugged, still a little pink, and a coy smile tugged at her lips as she reached out for his hand to pull him to the stage. Itachi deftly swung his hand out of the way with as much subtlety as he could manage and gave Shisui an understanding smile when he clapped him on the back and muttered his thanks before darting down the passage.

Just a few moments later he was standing back on the platform with the event host as a cameraman counted down with his fingers.

"Hey guys, my name is Ino Yamanaka, and I am standing here with Susanoo from Team Uchiha, who just lost a disappointing match against Sand eSports," she turned a little from the camera to face Itachi, who folded his arms over his chest, "So, tell us, when do you think the turning point was that locked in your defeat?"

Trying to not make a face at her rather unpleasant phrasing, Itachi leaned his head in so that he was closer to the microphone that was being presented to him, "I would say that it was about halfway through game three that things became unstable on our end," he explained calmly, "Two of our members grew anxious and began ignoring some of the calls Flicker made, and Sand eSports was able to quickly take advantage of our inability to function as a team."

Blonde hair bouncing as she nodded, Ino brought the mic back to her face, "So you would say that it was bad communication that lead to your loss?"

"Ultimately, yes."

Itachi's eyes left the host to scan the crowd – it was easier said than done thanks to the plethora of lights shining down on them, but it looked like the stadium was pretty full.

"How would you compare Anbu eSports to Team Uchiha, now that you've spent a few months with them?" Ino asked, eyes glittering with beneath the harsh lights. She really was pretty, he had to give her that much, even if he really was beginning to get a sour taste in his mouth from her questions.

"Anbu worked really well together as a group, and they truly move like a single-minded unit, but I feel like Team Uchiha's roster has players with more on-paper talent," Itachi explained, "Especially with Prophecy, who is one of the most promising players I have had the honor of playing with. I feel like once we can find our synergy then we'll have little to no trouble with performing to our expectations at future events."

It wasn't a complete lie – Sasuke truly was a child prodigy, one of the youngest in the scene, and had an immense amount of skill. With Shisui's knack for leadership, Itachi's support and Baru's aggressive play style, they really did have the makings for an excellent team. The only problem was that he knew there was no way Sasuke and Baru would ever get along, and they were both too impulsive and arrogant to listen to anyone other than themselves.

Ino turned back to the camera with a pearly smile, "Well I'm sure the fans are definitely looking forward to seeing that. Until then, we're going to go to a quick commercial break before the final matchup of the day between Will of Fire and Team Kaguya!"

Itachi wasted no time in turning on his heel to march over to the tunnel that would take him to the players' lounge. He wiped the small beads of sweat that were beginning to accumulate on his brow, thanks to that infernal lightning system elevating the room's temperature by twenty degrees, and shrugged off his team jacket the second he was out of sight.

Sasuke was pouting in the corner in an easy chair with an unopened energy drink in his hands. Baru was pointedly staring at the floor with his arms crossed defensively over his chest, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth. In the center of the room Shisui was whispering with Obito and only barely acknowledge Itachi's entrance, which meant that their coach was pissed.

Lovely.

Dropping onto the sofa next to Baru, Itachi fished his phone out of his back pocket and powered it back on so he could read whatever vitriol was being spewed over the internet. It was a habit he picked up from Kakashi, who regularly perused Twitter and Reddit for feedback and support from fans after matchups. It used to be fun to watch the gifs and memes people created and sent, but now it was more or less a form of self-induced torture as the notifications on Twitter were primarily from people asking "wtf was that?" At least Reddit users were constructive.

He loaded up the camera and snapped a quick photo of the way Obito was shooting daggers out of his eyes at Shisui.

 _Coach is nearly as upset as you guys_ , Itachi typed into Instagram, _Sorry to let you all down, again. We will try harder._

Apologies were beginning to feel customary for him, anymore. The drama was rough, but he wasn't so prideful that he couldn't admit that he missed playing with Anbu – or just a team that had synchronization, in general.

Itachi hit the icon for it to crosspost to Twitter and opened up the Reddit is Fun app, swiping around the screen for the Shippuden subreddit; there were already three threads dedicated to the "Disaster clusterfuck" that was their match.

 _I'm surprised Susanoo's teeth didn't fall out with the way he was lying through them_ , one commenter wrote.

_did u see how they didnt even shake hands?_

_they'd be lucky if they even get invited to a qualifier for the major_ , said another.

_If they just released Prophecy from his contract they could get someone onto the lineup that was a better fit they would have an easier time placing. Talent isn't everything. How many chances do they plan on giving him when someone like Shadow is still looking for a team?_

Itachi sighed. They weren't wrong.

_I don't even understand why Susanoo left Anbu for Team Uchiha. Who leaves a perfect team for a tier-three org that struggles to even make it to premier-level events?_

If only they knew.

_Flicker's gotta be at the end of his rope, too. When they did the listen-in you could hear a part of his soul dying when he was trying to break up that argument between Prophecy and Izanagi._

"We've got one more night here, so let's get some food before heading back to the hotel," Shisui snapped Itachi out of whatever Reddit-induced daze he was in, "I need a burger."

Sasuke huffed and pushed himself out of the chair he was sulking into, "Fuck it. I just wanna sleep."

With a hum of agreement, Baru pulled out his phone, "I can't believe I'm agreeing with the brat but I couldn't give a shit about dinner," he ignored Sasuke telling him to go fuck himself, "I'll take an Uber back to the hotel."

After months of their incessant griping at one another, Shisui didn't bother trying to pacify the situation and just ran a hand through the mess of curls that adorned his head with a heavy sigh, "Fine," he met Itachi's gaze, "You going back to the room, too?"

He shook his head and stuffed his phone into his pocket, "I'll come with you." There was no way he would be able to handle everyone else if he didn't get some food into his stomach.

The group parted just a few minutes later, with Obito heading back to the hotel to ensure that the other two didn't literally tear each others' throats out. Shisui promised to bring back something for him, and Itachi wordlessly summoned an Uber that was waiting patiently by the curb by the time they managed to navigate their way outside of the stadium building. Thankfully their driver knew exactly what they needed when Shisui asked for a place with feel-good food and booze, and it only took a few minutes of tense silence for them to get dropped off at a grungy-looking family-owned place that the driver swore up and down was better than it looked.

It didn't take long for them to realize that he wasn't lying. Itachi scooped a generous amount of their in-house garlic sauce on the thin slice of tomato basil pizza and savored the way the flavor spread over his tongue like a wave of everything comforting in the world. Next to him, Shisui was nearly halfway through some clusterfuck of a burger that had fried onion strings, bacon, barbecue sauce, jalapenos, horseradish, and god knew what else crammed between two halves of a pretzel bun.

Never before had he been so grateful for locals that knew more than just chain restaurants in their area.

Eventually the misery of their loss was buried beneath four slices of thin crust pizza and an expensive amount of Belvedere and Sprite, and Itachi was happily eyeballing the dessert menu until he realized that there was still a miserable glazed look over Shisui's eyes that was usually gone by the third or fourth beer after a match loss.

When he realized he was being observed, he gave a sheepish, halfhearted grin and rubbed at the condensation on his bottle.

"Hey, Itachi… You ever think about getting out?"

Getting out? Itachi frowned, "You mean retirement?" He was going on his ninth year in competitive gaming – it wouldn't be entirely unheard of for someone to step away from the scene.

"Nah, nothing like that," Shisui shook his head but didn't meet his gaze, "Or, well, it's a little like that... I've been sorta playing with the idea of getting back into _Melee._ "

Before joining _Shippuden_ , Shisui was a relatively successful _Super Smash Bros. Melee_ player – he was formerly sponsored by Monster and Razer – and even made it to the grand finals of EVO one year. It was ultimately the beat down he got from some guy from Will of Fire that made him shift paradigms, which was about when the _Shippuden_ scene started picking up speed.

Since stepping away he kept in touch with his old fight game friends, and Shisui still played it almost as much as he trained with his team; his sister even had a custom-made fight stick made for his birthday last year for when he played with his _Street Fighter_ pals. 

Pushing his drink away, which was mostly the remnants of a drink that was diluted with melted ice, Itachi rested his elbow on the bar and held his chin in his palm, "I understand that our team has been performing poorly, but is that really enough to push you away from the game entirely?" he asked with genuine interest. Shisui was his best friend, of course he would support any decision he made, but it was still a pretty extreme decision.

"Logitech pulled the plug on our sponsorship, and Madara's been having shit luck with finding anyone interested in supporting a team that can barely walk in a straight line together," he answered glumly.

After Rockstar dipped out a few months back, Logitech had been the only thing keeping the organization in the green. Without them, Itachi was pretty sure the team would have to downsize the team house and start cutting salaries - not like there was much to cut.

He felt his stomach sink, but Shisui wasn't finished.

"I told them that there's no way we're gonna pull ahead with Baru and Sasuke weighing us down, but Obito swears that he'll turn them around and won't release their contracts or do any trades," Shisui paused long enough to order two slices of coconut crème pie, and one classic burger to-go, "I'm pretty sure Team Uchiha's done for. Madara and Obito are running it into the ground, and, coincidentally enough…" he sighed and his frown deepened, "I got an email from Hidden Mist a few weeks back after I practiced with one of my old friends, Haku. They offered me a place in their organization, as long as I was his partner in doubles."

If Itachi was the type for swearing, he would have hissed out a profanity under his breath. Instead, he sighed and sat back in his chair as if the weight of what his friend was saying was literally pushing him back, "Shisui…"

He knew how close the _Smash_ scene was – it was like a freakishly massive family, if nothing else, and it was a game they were all extremely passionate about. Not only that, but Hidden Mist was a massive eSports organization that had teams and players in nearly every game that had a competitive community that was worth investing in. Suddenly, Shisui's wish to return made a lot more sense and Itachi honestly couldn't blame him for having a renewed interest in playing it professionally.

"I'm pretty sure I'm gonna take the deal. I mean… The starting pay is already a hell of a lot better than what Uchiha offers, and with the way things are looking for us…"

Itachi reached out to give his friend's shoulder a brief squeeze, "If it's what will make you happy, then accept their offer while it's still on the table," he said kindly.

With a sigh that told him that this was a talk Shisui had been genuinely worrying about, the stiffness in his shoulders melted away and he finally looked up with the familiar warmth that Itachi was so used to seeing, "Thanks, man... You don't know how bad I needed that."

Itachi smiled and turned his attention to the pie that the waitress was sliding in front of him.

He was happy that Shisui had his situation sorted, but what was going to happen to the rest of them that were still stuck on the sinking ship?


	2. Chapter 1

Itachi sighed and set his controller on the desk so he could bring his hands up to rub at his face.

The team agreed to a scrim invite with Clan Nara, a team that is normally below their skill level, but Baru didn't take long to lose his cool and began trash-talking his teammates – because it was somehow _their_ fault that he let himself get so flustered that his reaction times dropped.

"Baru, shut up," Shisui grumbled, "You're sitting out for the rest of the night. Inabi, we're gonna take a ten minute break and it'll be your time to shine."

Sasuke gave a victory laugh that made Itachi's skin crawl. _No_ , Sasuke, it's not funny when your teammate become so infuriated that he has to miss out on valuable practice time. He was thankful for the short break, though, and he had his headset off and his butt out of his chair within seconds, stretching muscles that hadn't moved in nearly two hours.

Baru stomped off, grumbling under his breath, and Sasuke, who suddenly looked bored, muttered about being in desperate need of "A piss or I'll fucking die in my chair," and walked out.

Eloquent.

In true millennial-child fashion, once Itachi was finished touching the floor with flattened hands to stretch his legs, he was already dropping back into the computer chair that creaked in protest and grabbing his cell from the desk.

"I'm so ready to get outta here," Shisui groaned, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk.

Itachi gave a lukewarm chuckle that was more of a puff of air than it was a laugh, "No kidding. Have you let management know, yet?" He opened up Reddit is Fun.

"Hell yeah I did!"

It was difficult to share Shisui's enthusiasm when you still weren't sure what your own future held.

"They're gonna charge one beast of a transfer fee, but apparently Hidden Mist couldn't care less," he was practically beaming at the ceiling, "I'm so excited, man. They're already setting me up with a spot in the team house, and everything."

Itachi hummed while scrolling past the threads he had already read, which were mostly about how Will of Fire dominated their most recent tournament, and fans were trying to theorize what other teams could do to knock them down a pedestal. "I was unaware that those who played fighting games shared a team house," he responded mildly.

He could hear Shisui's shoulders shrug against the cheap leather of his chair, "Eh, not usually, but Hidden Mist's apparently big on keeping the fam' all together. Sorta like how Leaf eSport's got, like, _four_ houses all on the same street, or something."

_SnakeEyes to Form New Team_

A surprised little sound made itself heard from the back of Itachi's throat, "Did you know that Orochimaru is leaving Akatsuki eSports?"

Shisui hummed, "That so? He's been with them for a while, hasn't he? Like… Two years? Three?"

Orochimaru was a part of the _Shippuden_ lineup for Akatsuki eSports even while he was managing Team Anbu's roster, before the company behind the team started setting up clear-cut rules about conflicts of interest and the like when everyone found out and caused a fuss. He ended up leaving Anbu to stay with Akatsuki, though apparently his commitment was short-lived as it had only been about six months. Itachi nodded wordlessly at Shisui's question, more interested in reading the ESPN report than putting any effort into verbalizing his response.

_Orochimaru, AKA "SnakeEyes", has made the decision to part ways with Akatsuki eSports, according to a Tweet made by team coach Nagato, AKA "Six"._

_The decision follows the team's failure to qualify for the New York Major, which is slated for next month, due to a bitter defeat against Will of Fire. SnakeEyes confirmed his departure in a TwitLonger post where also announced that he will be forming his own Shippuden team, and will reveal the roster after hosting tryouts._

"It seems he felt the Akatsuki was a poor fit," Itachi hummed, eyes skimming past the details of Orochimaru's history and the new team, "He's forming his own team called Hidden Sound."

Rolling his head back to peer at his best friend, Shisui raised a curious eyebrow, "Yeah? You thinking of trying out, or does he already have a roster?"

He scrunched his nose in disgust, "Neither," he answered flatly. Orochimaru was a creep that he wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, something Itachi learned at a PAX party when he couldn't get near the man without feeling a long-fingered hand trying to grab at his rear; his worries were solidified when Orochimaru threw him to the wolf during his time with Team Anbu.

Already pale skin blanched at the reminder. He continued reading, shoving those thoughts into the dark shadowy part of his mind where they belonged.

_In a press release posted to their official website, Akatsuki eSports informed the community that they are going to be looking for a player to fill the now-empty support role. They encourage applications that meet their posted criteria, and will be reaching out to available players. Until then, Kyusuke "Swift Foot" Yoton will be substituted into the starting lineup._

Itachi's heart skipped a beat, stopped, then kicked into overdrive while clicking on the embedded source link to take him to the organization's press release. Quickly skipping the details of Orochimaru's contract coming to an end, his eyes searched for the list of prerequisites for applicants.

_As we are in the process of restructuring the team, we would like to explore more talent, new or old, in hopes of finding the best roster possible. Our current team captain, Kisame "Samehada" Hoshigaki, will be participating in these tryouts and team coach Nagato "Six" Uzumaki will be personally involved in the selection proves. The position will go to whomever we feel to be the best suited for it. Like any other tryout, every applicant must have the following requirements:_

_•Fluency in English_

_•Minimum of Diamond 5 ranking on the NA, EU, Asian or Oceanic servers for the current season_

_•Willing to relocate to the Akatsuki eSports gaming house in California, USA_

_•A positive mind set, which includes but is not limited to the following:_

_○ Willingness to learn from others_

_○ Competitive spirit_

_○ The ability to accept criticism and be self-critical_

_○ The ability to play on a professional level without need for constant direction_

"They're holding tryouts," he nearly whispered.

Shisui narrowed his eyes, "Didn't you just say -?"

"Akatsuki. _Akatsuki_ is holding tryouts."

There was a beat where he didn't seem to understand what Itachi was saying but, then, the eyes he just narrowed widened to the size of saucers. Very, very excited saucers. "Dude! Yes! Do it! Right now!"

With top-tier players in _Shippuden, Gears of War, Smash, Street Fighter_ and _CS:GO_ , Akatsuki eSports was one of the biggest eSports brands in the business. Past teams Itachi had worked with were definitely close to being world-class, especially Team Anbu and Mangekyo eSports, but this was the type of team that many players could only _dream_ of signing to.

Itachi hid his own excitement and locked his phone before setting it back on the desk, "Another time," he said casually, rubbing at a familiar ache in his back, "Unlike you, I would much rather keep Madara in the loop before anything is set in stone."

He pouted at the subtle jab but offered a resigned shrug as Sasuke sauntered back in with their sub in tow. How the hell they walked off in separate directions, but came back together, was beyond Itachi, given the layout of the house, though he didn't bother with asking questions.

"Alright, let's move over to capture the flag for a bit before running more scrims."  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Good evening, Susanoo. Are you in need of something?"

Lingering in the doorway of his manager's office, the man fought the urge to rub at the ache in his back "Are you busy?"

Madara blinked slowly, his face as unreadable as ever, "I am always busy. Again, I ask, are you in need of something from me?"

If he wasn't already aware of the organization's grim future, Itachi would hold his cold tone against him. Instead, he stepped into the office and closed the door behind him to make it clear that he was about to bring up something that demanded all of his attention. Just as he sat down, however, Madara sighed and looked back at his computer to read whatever held his interest before Itachi approached him.

"I assume Flicker filled you in on our more recent bout of misfortune," he hummed, "I suppose I can't be too surprised, given your close friendship."

Itachi found himself feeling bad for the manager of Team Uchiha, who looked more exhausted than anything else, "That's right."

"And, given the recent news about SnakeEyes, it's safe to say that you're interested in applying for Akatsuki's support role."

Madara had a habit of referring to players only by their pro names, no matter how long you knew each other. Given how quickly many teams rotated through players, Itachi figured it was to prevent any sort of unnecessary attachments with players that could just leave in a couple of months; it must be easier to just view them as subordinates.

Nodding, he gave into the urge and made a futile attempt at rubbing out the perpetual knot that rest just beneath his right shoulder blade.

"I have to admit that I'm disappointed, but I have no wish to keep a player that wants to take their skills elsewhere," Madara clicked around on his computer without meeting the gaze of the man standing on the other side of his desk, "And your contract, like the others', expires at the end of the month before the lock-ins for the next major. I'll contact Akatsuki on your behalf in the morning."

Itachi blinked owlishly for several moments. The previous teams he played for insisted that he fill out a number of forms, including a survey that was to be submitted to the team psychologist (Which Team Uchiha admittedly didn't have) and a confirmation that he had no intention of renewing his contract. Was this all that was required of him? Asking nicely?

When he didn't immediately leave the room, Madara finally looked away from his monitor and blinked at Itachi slowly, "Is there something else you require?"

Unable to tell if he was tired, or so pissed that he had transcended into a state of numbness, Itachi shook his head and backed towards the door, "That was everything," he said in a low voice, "Thank you. I appreciate your understanding."

Madara merely hummed and turned back to his monitor. How he ever found someone that would wear a wedding band with him was simply beyond Itachi, but he didn't bother himself with fretting over the mood of their half-baked discussion. What mattered was that his manager was going to contact one of the greatest professional gaming organizations in the world so he could have a chance at joining their _Shippuden_ roster.

Butterflies fluttered around in his belly as he padded through the hall towards the kitchen. Itachi was in desperate need for something sweet, but wasn't about to start digging into his Little Debbie stash at ten o'clock at night, so he made his way over to his special cabinet for the next best thing: his Teavana stash.

Thankfully no one else in the house was an avid tea drinker – though Itachi did notice Sasuke slinking back to his room with a mug of green tea one time – so the cabinet was as colorful and carefully organized as he left it. Grabbing the kettle with one hand and the tin can marked _White – Orange Peach_ with the other, he hummed a tune to himself while preparing his beverage.

"No Fancy Cakes?" a familiar voice asked.

Itachi nearly burned himself on the stove when he flinched. Shisui had a pretty annoying habit of never making any noise, ever.

Making a face at the way his friend started laughing quietly, he looked back to the kettle to watch the steam that was puffing out of the spout. After years of making tea for himself Itachi could tell when the kettle was about to whistle, so he made sure to keep an eye on it so he didn't have to deal with Baru coming out of his room to complain about his sleep being interrupted; everyone knew it wasn't his _sleep_ that they were ruining.

"Madara is going to email them for me tomorrow," he said quietly.

Shisui reached into the cabinet for the already opened box of Swiss Rolls, "Yeah? That must've been a pleasant chat," he pulled a packet out and ignored the look Itachi gave him when he haphazardly flung the box back with the rest of the neatly arranged system that was his coveted stash, which knocked several others askew, "I've had prostate exams that were more comfortable than the talk I had with him."

Itachi rolled his eyes at the comparison, "It was like a dream."

With a grin, he tore open the package and crammed the sweet into his mouth, "Fer reel tho. Mm shor it'll wurrk ot in da end – yer a reel gud p -!"

"Good lord, one would think you were raised by chimpanzees," Itachi muttered, scrunching his nose and taking the kettle off of the burner, "Are you trying to choke to death, or just make an ass out of yourself?"

That was when Shisui's throat decided to reject the processed crap that wanted to lodge itself in his throat, and he keeled over the sink while thumping his fist against his chest. After a couple of seconds where Itachi was beginning to genuinely worry for the other man's well being, he gave him one good whack on the back that seemed to save him from certain death.

And, like a moron, he just kept chewing instead of spitting the food out before it had a chance to attempt murder again.

Shisui was going to be the death of himself.

Once he scooped a generous amount of tea leaves into the tea infuser, Itachi snatched a mug off of the rack and began to count the time, "If you're done making a spectacle of yourself, do you still have that pain medication from the car accident in Pittsburgh?"

The older man frowned, wiping his cheeks of tears and cake residue, "Your shoulder still bothering you?"

It wasn't so much his shoulder as it was the chunk of muscle between his spine and his right shoulder blade, but Itachi hummed and nodded. Normally it was more of an annoyance than anything else, there were just a few times where the incessant pinching sensation grew almost unbearable and he had to mooch off of Shisui's leftover pills to get through it.

Instead of trotting off to fetch half of a tablet, Shisui's frown deepened, "You really should get that checked out…"

"It's just a muscle knot," Itachi murmured, "It's common for those with desk jobs to experience tension in the neck and shoulders, especially when they aren't using proper chairs."

"Yeah but you know what isn't common? Needing _prescription-strength_ painkillers for a 'Muscle knot,'" Shisui used air quotes for that last bit. Realizing how sharp his tone was, his face softened and he took a bite of the second cake roll, "Look, I'll get you another half 'cuz I don't wanna see my friend look like a miserable bag of fuck. But you need to stop pretending like this is okay – pain _isn't_ okay."

Itachi avoided his gaze by pouring his tea, "'Kay, mom."

His lips quirked upwards when Shisui chuckled and punched him on the shoulder.

"So what're you doing drinking this at night?" he asked after a few quiet minutes passed and he had returned from his bedroom, "Doesn't have tea have caffeine in it?"

Itachi thanked him for the pill that was offered, tossing his head back with a mouthful of his drink to wash it down. "White tea has little to no caffeine," he said with a yawn, "I just wanted something sweet before heading to bed."

As someone who didn't appreciate the subtle fruity flavors of what he called "Petal extract," Shisui made a face and finished off his Swiss Roll, "That's what you consider sweet? You didn't even put any sugar in it."

"If I put sugar in it, I won't be able to sleep," he defended, "And I have yet to ruin my taste buds with spicy foods, so I can still enjoy the subtle sweetness of tea. Now, stop making that face unless you want to look like an old man by age thirty."

Shisui's grimace shifted into his usual lazy grin, "I haven't ruined my taste buds, Itachi, I'm just not a delicate little flower like you are."

Itachi rolled his eyes, but smiled into his mug as he took another sip. They stood across from one other, leaning against the counter, in a comfortable silence for a few long minutes; the only sounds were made by their gentle breathing and the soft slurping noises that came from Itachi drinking his warm beverage. He usually enjoyed fruity teas like this cold, but there was something soothing about drinking warm things that he most definitely needed.

His eyes scanned the small kitchen they stood in. Even for being a rather low-ranking organization, Itachi found himself pretty comfortable in the team house that they all lived in. He wouldn't miss Sasuke and Baru's poor attitudes, but he would really miss this house after living in it for five months – yes, that included the oven with the broken thermometer that always burned anything it touched.

"I'm gonna miss this," Shisui suddenly said. His voice was only barely louder than a whisper, and his smirk had softened into a sad smile, "Just being able to hang out with you like this, knowing you're just down the hall… Ya know?"

Itachi nodded and emptied his mug. Their time spent together wasn't always the smoothest, but they became fast, best friends. Since childhood they were never more than a short walk from one another, with the exception of Itachi's stint in Las Vegas, and he had long since grown accustomed to having Shisui back in his life in a way that had them together twenty-four-seven.

This was the worst part about competitive gaming: Having to always say goodbye to people, sometimes as soon as you become close.

"You better Skype me, like, all the fuckin' time, Itachi," he said, voice picking up some of its lost enthusiasm.

"You're doing a very good job at making us sound like we're a pair of long-distance lovers," Itachi laughed, turning towards the sink to wash out the tea residue that clung to his cup.

"Hey, if that's what it'll take to get you to remember to text me every now and then."

He tried to pointedly ignore Shisui's joke, but another laugh bubbled up and he shook his head with smiling lips bit between his teeth. _'You moron…'_

Stepping over to Itachi's side, Shisui ran a hand through his mess of curls, "Speaking of which… If Akatsuki gives you shit over that, I wanna know. Alright?"

"I don't plan on making a spectacle of myself, Shisui."

Even if millennials were known for being significantly more accepting than their previous generation, Itachi wasn't the type of person that would practically introduce himself as someone who jumped into bed with their own gender. That was a good way to get ostracized, or killed – though he mostly just had to deal with Baru calling him a faggot when he was particularly riled up.

Still, Itachi would rather keep that under wraps for as long as possible. The public didn't need to know any more about him than what they already know and he would like for things to stay that way. It wasn't any of their business.

Shisui made a face, "Seriously. Haku went through a lot of crap with Seven Swords after someone posted a picture of him and Zabuza."

Yeah. He remembered.

Zabuza's massive, both in height and in muscle mass, so no one was going to start making fun of him, but his boyfriend wasn't granted the same privilege and it wasn't long before Jinpachi was arrested for aggravated battery. Calling it a hate crime would be an understatement. It was why they both ended up leaving the organization for Hidden Mist – because too many people in their organization couldn't handle a candid photo of a chaste kiss over a fucking candlelit dinner.

"If something happens, you'll be the first one I call," Itachi assured him, setting the mug on the drying rack with a small smile, "But I really don't think there's anything for you to be worried about. Obito hasn't even emailed them yet so let's not jump the gun."

Shisui's expression curled inward and he shrugged, "Just wanna make sure you're taken care of, man."

They weren't a part of the Korean gaming scene, which was like a cold dungeon of nonstop training, but competitive gaming could be an incredibly unhealthy work environment. You didn't have to be beat to hell by another teammate for it to be considered bad, either. Sleazy CEOs would trap their players in slave contracts that would have them working well beyond full-time hours, without consistent pay, or very little pay. If you tried to leave, you were sued. If you didn't fulfill your contract to the T, you were sued. And, sometimes, it was more dangerous to get into a new contract than it was to stay with a corrupt organization.

Things were getting better, but it was still very much an unregulated industry. It was up to the players to look out for each other, most of the time.

After a quick step to the side, Itachi reached out and pulled his friend into a quick hug, "Thank you."

"Don't even mention it."

_________________________________________________________________________________

Kisame groaned the second his email opened up on his laptop.

"It's been two goddamn days, and I don't even think I've started making a _dent_ in these applications," he grumbled, nearly slamming his computer shut and pushing it off to the side.

Next to him, Sasori glanced over in his direction with a raised eyebrow, "Pretty sure that's mostly because every time you start looking at them, you start complaining and put it off."

Kisame slumped down into the cushions, stuffing his hands into the open pocket of his hoodie, and grunted. "Fucker. I don't see _you_ helping."

Sasori chuckled and turned back to whatever weird documentary on ball-jointed dolls he was watching, "As much as I know of the game, I'd probably pick a _Call of Duty_ player by accident."

Well... Yeah, he wasn't wrong. The redhead was one of the few people in the industry that was only a part of an organization because it was just a well paying job - while others would damn him for tainting the precious gaming world, Kisame actually found their community manager's ignorance refreshing.

"Why don't you just ask Konan for help? She _is_ the coach, after all," Sasori added between mouthfuls of popcorn.

Kisame sighed, "That poor woman needs a vacation, not more work."

Honestly, the only reason he showed an invested interest in managing the applications process was because their coach and manager both looked like they were going to drop dead of exhaustion at any given moment. As much as Kisame wanted to make sure that the team gets a compatible member added to their roster, he wasn't so emotionally attached to the idea that he looked forward to tackling the remaining two hundred applications that needed to be sorted through.

Thankfully Kisame learned how to streamline the process - he automatically rejected everything that was filled out improperly, or had typos. If you didn't care enough to proofread your shit, you didn't care enough about the gig. It was probably harsh, and Konan would probably get on his ass about it if she knew, but it made his life a hell of a lot easier.

His eyes drifted down to where Deidara was half-sprawled across the sofa and Sasori's lap, bundled up in the blanket they kept on the back of the couch, "I think I'm gonna follow his example," he yawned, pushing himself up off of the furniture, "Night, man."

Kisame was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just to introduce Kisame and give you a feel for what kind of game that they're all playing. I really tried to merge a MOBA with an FPS lol. But it's not gonna be the main focus of the story so if you don't like it, don't worry :)

Itachi skidded around a corner, magnum raised, and fired off three shots before crouching behind a metal crate. Two icons for the headshot medals flashed up at the bottom of his screen, as well as the double kill medal, and his lips twitched upwards as he went through the animation for reloading.

"Two guys on Red Bridge," Sasuke's voice was unusually calm as he sprinted past Itachi to run up the steps, "Neji's got active camo."

Crud.

"Then he's probably got a sword, too," Shisui's marker on the map suddenly came to a halt to detour towards the bridge, "Itachi, can you get a shot?"

He backpedaled and swapped out his magnum for his sniper rifle, immediately aiming down the sights. The active camo meant that he wouldn't be able to see anything other than a vague shimmer, assuming it wasn't one of the advanced versions from the req station, but it only took a second of waiting for Neji to move too aggressively for the invisibility to keep him completely hidden.

Another headshot medal appeared on the screen just as Sasuke offed Hinata.

"Nice," Baru hissed.

"Itachi, head over to their end of the map and drop some wards," Shisui paused, and _Flicker»GreenGuard_ popped up on the screen to notify the rest of the players that Ko got mowed down, "Sasuke, get their attention."

Itachi ran over to Neji's body and dropped the rifle for the sword that he was carrying; satisfaction brewed in his chest when he saw it was one of the level five requisition swords. Flicking the right paddle with his ring finger, he activated his sprint and followed the edge of the path. As long as Sasuke did his job by making as much noise as he could on the map to have the other team start looking in his direction, Itachi wouldn't have too much trouble with lighting up the map for his team.

He activated his camouflage and jumped on top of a barrel, jumping again to take advantage of a map bug while flipping through his item menu with the D pad. Just as the observer ward popped onto the screen it glitched into a tree thanks to a poorly-coded branch, and a quarter of the map suddenly lit up.

"Fucking shit," Sasuke hissed half of a second before Sunflower»Prophecy showed up in the general activity box, "Himawari's running around with a fucking railgun, and Neji gave her some sort of speed boost."

"Dammit – dammit – fuck!" Baru's voice was so loud that his mic clipped painfully in Itachi's ear as he hit Ko with a speed impairing ability so he could run up and sword-dash into his back, "Shisui I thought you had my back?!"

Well, apparently someone did. Just… Not Shisui.

A smirk pulled at one corner of Itachi's lips. See? He could make jokes.

 _Flicker»PrincessEye_ joined the activity box.

"Relax, so far we've got a fifty-point lead. Use some of our points to set up a courier to send Itachi a defense buff from the req station."

As if on cue, the enemy team began to respawn just as he dropped a sentry ward, "I'm doubling back," he switched off his camo and activated the sprint before double-tapping the button on his controller to make him pivot, "I'm out of wards and – oh crap."

Thankfully Itachi's body seemed to be able to function well enough on its own, because his brain turned into scrambled eggs as one of the objectives spawned in his face. The alien NPC immediately noticed his presence and turned in his direction, massive sword dragging over the boulder he was standing on. His fingers danced over his controller to dash away from the Raikage's attack, though the lightning surrounding the sword was enough to completely obliterate his shield.

"Just go, just go," Shisui's voice was tight, "We're almost there."

Itachi tossed a grenade before pulling a one-eighty to sprint away from the map objective. Killing the NPC would grant them enough points to afford top-tier items, as opposed to slowly gaining points through killing the other team and smaller NPCs that lurked the map, which would be the last boost they need to destroy their base.

Sasuke's and Shisui's characters both raced by him, so he turned back around and hit up on his D pad to select a defense buff to give them.

While waiting for the cooldown, though, his phone lit up and began to ring silently, and Itachi was almost too distracted to notice that Baru had joined the fray and with half of his health bar knocked out from the Hyuga members zeroing in on the map objective.

He furrowed his brow, feeling his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose, and ran up to inject him with a healing serum before scrolling through his item menu for a shield charge.

"Need a slow on the Himawari."

The phone stopped ringing, but there was an orange light flashing that told him there was a voicemail.

"Fuck! Sasuke do you even fucking know what tanking _is?!_ "

Itachi lobbed an adhesive grenade to slow the movements of the other team and sprinted back around to refill Baru's health bar, "You're standing too close. Back up."

"Don't fucking tell me what - !"

"Sasuke can't generate aggro if you're that close," Shisui cut in, "You're a ranged DPS. Act like it."

An idea hit Itachi as he increased Shisui's damage output, "Focus on killing Himawari and Neji," he jumped back to avoid getting the NPC's attention, "Let the Raikage kill their DPS, then move in on him."

It wouldn't be what the Hyuga players would be expecting, so the element of surprise would be on their side.

Shisui and Baru both ran around the Raikage's pit to close in behind their opponents, leaving Sasuke to soak up damage, and Itachi to make sure he didn't keel over. He could almost see the other team panic at the sudden turn of events, unable to get a clear shot at the two damage-dealers that were too close for them to gain their bearings.

"Sasuke, drop an AOE for us."

_Raikage»GreenGuard_

The team was bounced back, furthering their disorientation, but the charged blast was from Sasuke overloading his shields to the point that they exploded, so his health bar began to rapidly decline. By the time Itachi was recharging his shield the bar was already half-depleted, and the teenager was shouting profanities into his microphone.

_Izanagi»Sunflower_

_Raikage»PrincessEye_

_Flicker»Freebird_

"Alright, go all-in."

With nothing to distract them, it took the team less than a minute to tear down the Raikage's shield and eat away at his health bar. They were awarded enough requisition points to give them enough padding to fall back to their base to access an item station while their opponents split up into pairs on the map to slowly make up for their loss.

"They broke my sentry ward," Itachi frowned as that section of the map disappeared into darkness.

"Then Neji's probably got stealth on."

"They setting up wards, too?"

Baru scoffed, "Fucking _duh_."

Shisui darted away from his req station with a railgun, "Doesn't matter. If they're scoping out our map then theirs is open."

Itachi opened up his available rifles, "They're off-balance. I'll pick off their support and we'll be good," he grabbed a legendary sniper rifle, ignoring the available skins that popped up as an option, and upgraded his sprint before jumping off the station.

With Baru hot on his heels, he gave his teammate a speed boost to keep up with him as he navigated his character out of the stronghold and onto one of the higher points of the map, carefully watching the red markers on the mini map.

It cost nearly his entire share of the points, but if Neji was using stealth then the rifle's infrared scope was going to prove to be invaluable now that his sentry ward wasn't available to pick him up. He pulled the left trigger to aim down the sights, only to pull out of the scope and reposition himself to look at another angle, essentially quick-scoping the map.

There was a flash of yellow and red that caught Itachi's attention and, just as his glasses dropped down to the tip of his nose, he followed the heat flare until it lined up with his crosshairs.

_Susanoo»Freebird_

"LEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYY -!"

" _Baru!_ Fuck!"

"Just shut up and _go_ , man!" Shisui barked, agreeing with Sasuke's protests.

Itachi jumped off of the ledge, ignoring the way his shield flared from the fall damage, and sprinted after his teammates. This was the first successful scrim they had run in days, and he wanted to make sure he wasn't the weak link by providing crappy support; Sasuke wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

"Shield's down," Baru grumbled.

The team rushed in, ignoring what few NPCs were attempting to guard the base, and sprinted up the ramp to the now-exposed core.

"Hey if we throw a bunch of grenades - ?"

"Yes, it will destroy the core," Itachi rolled his eyes and nudged his glasses up with his wrist while unloading into the objective, "Yes the splash damage will kill us."

At Sasuke's laugh, Shisui switched to a rocket launcher and, with a laugh of his own, shot the core.

Itachi flinched at the chain of explosions that threatened to deafen him, setting down his controller and yanking his headset off before he developed tinnitus.

"Was that necessary?" he groaned, rubbing at his face with both hands. Even if the match was locked down, that was just annoying.

He ignored Shisui's subsequent apologies and reached for his phone to see who tried calling him earlier. The number wasn't one he recognized, meaning it was either a small web magazine that didn't understand the concept of emailing and somehow used internet magic to get his personal phone number, it was a telemarketer, or a misdial.

Actually, telemarketers didn't normally leave messages, did they?

 _"Hey, my name's Kisame. I'm the team captain for Akatsuki eSport's Shippuden squad,"_ an only mildly familiar voice spoke once Itachi loaded the voicemail, _"Your manager called my manager, and, uh, I try to stay involved in this stuff so I figured I'd drop you a line to see if you're still interested in tryouts."_

Standing up fast enough that his chair rolled back into the wall, Itachi readjusted his glasses and navigated around the desks to make a beeline for the hall that would take him outside.

_"If you are, just call me back when you get the chance so we can set something up over Skype, or something."_

Kisame continued on to provide his phone number, which was the mystery number in his call history, as well as his email address and the best times to reach him at.

Butterflies were drag-racing in Itachi's stomach as he hastily closed the voicemail and opened up his missed calls to select the most recent number; he tried to not drop the phone when he brought it up to his ear with shaking fingers.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four –

There was a burst of noise that sounded a lot like wind, _"Y'ello?"_

Itachi almost passed out, "Kisame?"

 _"Sure is."_ The wind slowly faded away, but there was still a considerable amount of background noise.

Completely used to having managers do all of the talking on his behalf, he suddenly realized that he had no clue how to approach this conversation, "It's Itachi."

 _"Oh, hey, man!"_ Kisame's voice lost the guarded tone it currently held, and immediately livened up, _"Sorry, I guess I got you at a bad time when I called earlier."_

"No, no, we were just in the middle of a scrim with the guys from Hyuga," Itachi rubbed at the ache in his back nervously, "Are you busy?"

_"Not really, just driving back to the house."_

That explained the background noise, "Oh."

Kisame hummed, and there were a few moments of awkward silence.

_"Anywaaaays, I guess you got my voicemail?"_

It was Itachi's turn to hum.

_"If you don't have anything planned for the rest of the day, you wanna just get the tryouts out of the way this afternoon?"_

This afternoon? Tryouts were normally carefully coordinated by team managers through emails with at least a couple of days to prepare oneself, and he wanted to just do them before the sun went down? Itachi's brain, which was used to planning and scheduling, nearly short-circuited.

"I don't see why that would be a problem," he responded in a voice that did nothing to betray just how nervous he felt.

There was a click of a turning signal, and an engine revving, _"Awesome! Team Uchiha is based in San Diego, right? If you text me the address, I could swing by and pick you up."_

Okay, yeah, _now_ his brain was short-circuiting.

Itachi wasn't sure what he said in response, but it made Kisame laugh a little nervously, _"Sorry, is that weird?"_ he asked, _"I just feel like we'd get a better idea of how compatible you'd be if we did the trialing in person."_ A beat, _"If it would make you more comfortable then I can send a taxi, instead. Or we could just do it over Skype like normal."_

Great. Itachi was already making things uncomfortable, "No, no, I just would rather not be a burden."

On the other end of the line, Kisame snorted, _"Don't worry about it! I'm already on the highway from the gym so it's no big deal."_

"Oh," he responded dumbly, "In that case, I suppose I'll see you soon."

They said their goodbyes, and Itachi's head was nearly spinning by the time he was able to type out the address to the team house. This entire situation was going against everything he was used to when it came to player transferring but, when you were one of the biggest names in the industry, he assumed that Akatsuki was able to basically do what they wanted.

He quickly rushed through the house to get to his bedroom, glancing down at his phone when it vibrated in his hand.

_awesome. should be 15 min._

No time for a shower, then. Itachi stripped out of his pajama pants and chucked them onto the bed with his trunks, turning back to his dresser to fish a clean pair of underwear out of the top drawer. Why he felt he needed fresh underwear for the meeting was beyond Itachi, but it wasn't as if his brain was functioning properly as he tucked his junk to the side and shuffled over to his closet.

Was he supposed to dress down, or dress like you would for a job interview? Clearly they didn't care for formalities, but did they expect him to be as casual as they were over the phone? Was this going to be like one of those interviews where the boss would sit on the desk and roll up his sleeves to lull you into a false sense of security, when he was really a stiff hard ass? If he dressed too well for the occasion would they think he was pompous?

Itachi yanked a pair of jeans off of the hanger and, after a few moments of deliberation, a casual short-sleeved button-down.

After changing, fixing his hair, brushing his teeth and slipping his shoes on, Itachi finally calmed down enough to realize that maybe he was over thinking this entire situation as he stiffly sat on the edge of his bed, drumming his fingers on his knees nervously when he wasn't watching the minutes tick by. What if it went bad? What if he didn't get along with the team members?

A few minutes into listening to the oppressive silence of his room Itachi realized that maybe he should let his teammates know that he was dipping out for the rest of the day, and popped his head into the training room to see that Shisui was, thankfully, alone. He must have called a break when Itachi ran out.

"Akatsuki's captain called me about tryouts."

Both of Shisui's eyebrows climbed up to hide behind the curly hair that flopped over his forehead, "No shit? What'd he say?"

Itachi couldn't hide his nervousness when he responded with, "He wants to pick me up to trial run at the team house," there was a knock at the door, "Now, apparently."

Confusion was written into every one of his features, and there were clearly a thousand questions flying through his head, but Shisui knew there was no time for anything to be explained so he quickly wished him luck and they said their farewells so Itachi could beat the others to the door – he really didn't want to deal with Baru's griping that would absolutely be a result of him finding out about a possible transfer.

Moments later, when opened the door, Itachi was positive that he had never seen a human being any more intimidating in his life.

Anyone who paid attention to professional _Shippuden_ had seen at least an image, or a short clip, of Kisame somewhere, but Itachi had only ever seen him standing on his own or with his former teammates on Seven Swords – who were apparently all just as massive as he was, because they all looked average when standing together.

Kisame had to be at least six inches taller than him, with enough defined muscle mass for Itachi to be pretty sure that his forearm was twice the size of his own. An intricate Polynesian-style tattoo started in a point at the base of his neck and covered his right bicep, extending just a few inches past the elbow; Itachi could see it crossed over the right half of his chest, too, but the loose tank he wore prevented him from seeing just how far it went. There were also three distinct lines tattooed on both of his rather sharp cheek bones that nearly resembled gills.

If you didn't immediately notice the tattoos, it would probably be because your attention was caught by the shock of blue hair that was a tousled mess on top of his head. Or it was because you were too distracted by the rather impressive assortment of piercings in both ears – with one being almost completely full of metal and plastic – to accompany the twin piercings in his right eyebrow, and a stud that poked out just below the center of his lip.

The first thing that crossed Itachi's mind was that you had to be a dedicated masochist to put your body through that much pain just for appearances.

The second was that he suddenly felt very, very small.

Clearly oblivious to how overwhelming Itachi found his appearance, Kisame flashed a toothy smile that made his eyes crinkle, "Hey! You all set?"

With just that, every shred of intimidation fled his body.

His smile was so _happy_.

With a quick pat of his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed, Itachi twisted the lock on the doorknob and stepped over the threshold, the door clicking shut behind him, "That definitely was not fifteen minutes."

"Was it?" The grin never left Kisame's face as he ran a hand through his messy hair, "Sorry, guess I got a little excited."

Itachi followed him to the blue car parked at the end of the driveway, wondering if he was surprised or not over the fact that the chirp of the alarm being deactivated came from what looked like a newer Charger model. It looked nice, if a little ostentatious, and it now made him a little worried to think that Kisame was the type that used his car as an excuse to drive like a moron, given the fact that he made a fifteen minute drive in under ten.

"So it occurred to me after hanging up that you'd be able to drive yourself," Kisame admitted once he peeled out of the driveway. The car smelled like polished, clean leather and air freshener, probably from the tiny clip in the AC vent. "I wasn't really using my head."

Itachi shrugged and tried to not stare at the complex system of geometric shapes and clean lines that covered his arm; it was very visually stimulating and it was hard to tear his eyes away from it when he just wanted to study the piece, "The cars actually belong to Shisui and my coach. I don't own one."

Both of Kisame's eyebrows rose, "That's right, Sushi's on your team! Hey – how's he doing?"

Sushi? "Excuse me?"

"Oh, ah, I met him when he still played _Melee_ ," he explained with a sheepish laugh, "You know Snow Spring?

"It's difficult to know Shisui without knowing Haku," Itachi smiled a little. Those two used to be surgically attached at the hip.

Kisame must have shared his sentiment, because his already toothy grin broadened, "Right? Then you probably know he's engaged to my old teammate, Zabuza - ."

It was Itachi's turn to look surprised as he looked up from his lap, "Zabuza proposed? That's wonderful!"

"He was so fuckin' excited about the Supreme Court ruling that he dragged me out to help him buy a ring that night," he laughed, and his voice held a fondness as he merged onto the highway, "Popped the question, like, two days later." After a pause, Kisame flipped on his blinker to change lanes, "Anyways, I met Sushi at a party during South-By-Southwest when he was still playing _Smash_ , but I couldn't pronounce his name. I ended up calling him Sushi, because I was drunk and didn't realize how racist it sounded."

Itachi's lips twitched into a smile as he tried to imagine how the scene must have played out; he had no doubt in his mind that Kisame wasn't the only one that took advantage of the open bar that evening. "Well he's doing fine for himself. He's actually about to finalize his paperwork to join Hidden Mist's _Smash_ lineup."

"No fuckin' kidding?"

Good lord he knew how to swear. Itachi watched him fiddle with the radio knobs, "Team Uchiha's on the brink of dissolution, so he's seeing this as a sign to shift gears."

Kisame grimaced, "Yeah our community manager was talking about how things haven't been looking too good for you guys," he huffed at the radio and smacked the auxiliary button before dropping his hand down to grab a blue iPod, "It's good that he's joining up with Haku again, though. Those two tore ass in doubles. And Hidden Mist is a real good organization."

After several seconds of watching Kisame glance back and forth between his iPod and the road, putting on his blinker to merge over to the exit lane, Itachi couldn't stop himself from frowning. "I'd appreciate it if I was returned to Uchiha in one piece," he muttered disapprovingly.

With a raised eyebrow, the grin never left Kisame's face as he all but chucked the music device into his lap, "Fine, you pick something."

Itachi's frown deepened. When it came to digging through peoples' electronics, he most certainly learned his lesson after stumbling across multiple porn folders on Shisui's phone while searching for music during their flight to MLG Columbus, and there was very little incentive for him to risk walking away from this car ride knowing what genre Kisame masturbated to just to find a good song.

Still, this was his first time ever meeting the captain of what could be his future team, and Itachi didn't want to make a total ass out of himself, so he tapped back out of whatever playlist he was in to scroll through the artist list. His eyes widened a little in astonishment, and his lips quirked upwards, when he finally found an artist he recognized.

"You like Of Monsters and Men?" he asked with a little too much bemusement slipping into his voice. Judging by Kisame's appearance, he was expecting something along the lines of dubstep and trap mixes, or maybe alternative rock. He certainly wasn't expecting to find indie-folk pop.

Kisame turned onto a side street with a raised eyebrow, "You sound surprised."

Trying to not squirm in his seat at the realization of how far his foot was just jammed into his throat, Itachi kept his eyes down on the screen that was displaying the Beneath the Skin album information, "You just don't appear to be…"

"The type?" he finished for him.

Itachi froze for a second, then snapped his head up in mild panic, "I didn't mean -."

Kisame cut him off with a laugh, "Relax, Itachi. I'm a pretty self-aware guy. I probably look like someone that listens to crunkcore and porn rap, right?"

A beat.

He looked over to meet Itachi's gaze, who was blinking slowly at him, "You okay?"

"Kisame, what the hell is porn rap?"

There was a booming laugh that nearly scared the younger man out of his skin, and Kisame looked back to the road as he turned into a neighborhood marked with a sign labeled _Daybreak Creek_.

"Judging by the look on your face, probably something that would ruin you for anything the hip hop genre has to offer ever again," he chuckled warmly, eyes almost glittering with mirth.

They were so blue.

"But, yeah, I like music that's a little more… Mellow, I guess," he continued, "I like being able to relax, unless I'm working out. Our community manager and GFX guy is pretty into Kpop, and he got me into these fucking sick mashups," Kisame turned onto another side street, "Can't understand a thing being said, but it's some of the catchiest shit I've ever heard."

Itachi would have smiled and asked about other bands he enjoyed, but the nervousness he felt earlier washed over him in full force as the car pulled into the driveway next to two others.

"Huh, I guess Nagato's still out."

Reality slammed into his gut, which twisted nervously when he was reminded that this wasn't just a fun car-ride to hang out and watch Netflix. This was it – this was _it_. Itachi was going to walk in there and make a horse's ass out of himself, impress them with his abilities as support, or play in such a mediocre manner that they wouldn't even remember his name.

"Ah, shit, hang on a sec."

The muscles in Itachi's back protested when he whipped his head around to figure out what was bothering Kisame, who had just unfastened his seatbelt and had his hand on the door handle.

"What's your opinion on transgender people?" he asked in a guarded tone.

What kind of question was that?

"To be honest… I don't have an opinion," Itachi answered in a voice that did little to betray the anxiety that was brewing up a storm in his stomach, "I never cared."

There was a moment's hesitation before the tension in Kisame's shoulders seemed to melt away, and he shrugged before opening the door, "Suppose that's fair enough. Deidara, uh, C4, is trans," he explained while stepping out of the car, "I wanted to make sure there wasn't gonna be an issue."

Despite the butterflies raging in his gut, there was some infinitesimal sense of relief at his words, and some of the stiffness in Itachi's back bled out. He hadn't even realized how much Shisui's words from the other night had affected him until Kisame indirectly told him that he wouldn't be thrown out, or hospitalized in Haku's case, if they found out about him.

"Guys! Get down here!" Kisame practically bellowed once the front door was open.

The house was definitely bigger than the duplexes Team Uchiha occupied. With an almost contemporary Swedish feel to it, Itachi noted, as his eyes rolled over the crisp and simplistic wall edges, it felt a lot more bright and open, though it still provided a sense of intimacy like a living space should.

It was also surprisingly clean, with the grey carpet lacking in any stains or dirt, and Itachi found himself suddenly afraid to move from where he was standing on the door mat, lest he ruin an otherwise impeccably maintained house.

A man with slicked back hair that was the same shade as the carpet was the first to poke his head around the corner on the above floor, looking particularly irritated, "What?! I'm in the middle of something!"

"Where's everyone else?" Kisame toed off his sneakers and dropped his keys onto a small table before stepping onto the raised level of the rest of the house, "We're gonna run a quick tryout."

Two men, one with long dark hair thrown up into a ponytail and the other with shaggy red locks that weren't too unlike how Shisui's hair looked the one time he attempted to flat iron it, rounded the corner on the floor level with sandwiches in their hands. The one with brown hair, Itachi was pretty sure he was their sub, raised a thin eyebrow when he saw who was standing in front of the door.

"Deidara's streaming, and Nagato's having some sort of meeting with Kakuzu and the other managers" he nodded in Itachi's direction, "Friend of yours?"

Kisame stepped to the side so the group could more easily see the newcomer, "This is Itachi – he plays on Team Uchiha as their support role."

"Susanoo, right?" the man with red hair stepped forward so that he could extend the hand not holding the sandwich, "You played for Anbu?"

Itachi shook his hand loosely, "That's right."

"I'm Sasori, Akatsuki's social media manager and graphics artist for the _Shippuden_ team," he retrieved his hand to motion at the other sandwich-eater, "This is Kyusuke, or Swift Foot, our substitute. The guy upstairs is one of our damage roles, Hidan."

Hidan stepped around the corner to lean against the wall with his arms folded, "Why the hell are we running an in-person tryout? Does he not have Skype or something?"

"Because this way I know he's not gonna be an asshole, like you," Kisame answered dryly while walking up the stairs, "I'm gonna take a quick shower. You guys get everything set up."

"Seriously?! Does Nagato even know -?!"

A thin woman with purple hair and orange eyes cleared her throat, cutting Hidan off and gaining the room's attention, "I've already let Nagato in on our plans for this afternoon," she said coolly, a light accent lilting her words, "I'll let the guys over at Hidden Mist know that you're ready."

Considering how staggeringly underrepresented women were in competitive gaming, it didn't take Itachi more than a couple of second to realize he was looking at the team coach, Konan. How long she had been lingering in the doorway was a mystery to him, but he offered his hand in greeting anyways, "Pleased to meet you."

It was obvious that she was exhausted, probably from sorting through applications with the team manager, so the warm smile Konan gave when shaking his hand didn't go unappreciated, "You look nervous."

Hidan grumbled under his breath and rolled off of the wall to disappear back around the corner before he started shouting at Deidara, "Get off your fucking ass, fag, we're running a scrim with some newb!"

Konan and Itachi frowned at each other.

"He's a real treat when Kisame isn't around to keep him in line," she sighed, motioning for Itachi to follow her in the same direction as Sasori and Kyusuke, "Anyways, the second floor is what you could call our living area, so everything down here is dedicated to training and work, with the exception of the kitchen and dining room."

As if the mention of food flipped a switch in his body, Itachi's stomach growled to remind him that he had yet to eat anything since last night's dinner of DiGiorno. He wondered if the Uber he took back to the team house would mind if they stopped for food.

Thankfully the coach didn't seem to take any notice, and she lead him into a well-lit room that was outfitted with six identical BenQ monitors that were sandwiched between PC towers and Xbox's. Each desk had Corsair mechanical-switch keyboards, MAXNOMIC chairs, Corsair mice, and personalized Scuf controllers that were neatly wrapped up next to Corsair headsets.

Oh, to have sponsors.

"This is where the magic happens," Konan gestured around the room with one hand while making her way to one of the consoles, unplugging a controller, "Everyone has claimed their seats, but you can set up here."

Setting up was as routine as it could get, so they were all ready to go within just a few minutes and started to idly chat while waiting on Kisame.

"So, Itachi, what made you wanna join Akatsuki?" Deidara asked with his headset around his neck, "According to Six, your manager was apparently pretty adamant on getting rid of you."

He tried to hide his frown by keeping his face on the screen while he played around with his character's cosmetic customizations, "There were some circumstances that were out of my control," he answered flatly while his toon's scarf cycled through the color spectrum.

Clearly unsatisfied with the vague response, Deidara hummed disapprovingly, "C'mon, that's it? No juicy gossip?"

"Shut the fuck up, fag," Hidan snapped from across the desk, "No one fucking cares -!"

"Hidan, if I hear you talk like that one more time I will personally wash your mouth out with soap," Kisame strolled into the room in jeans and a plain t-shirt that only barely seemed to fit over his broad torso, "And it'll be that rough exfoliating kind. So cut it out."

Whatever body wash he used definitely was working, because as soon as he dropped into the chair next to Itachi's, he found himself having to make a conscious effort to not focus on how absolutely amazing he smelled.

Oh, dear.

"And I'll make sure Nagato reduces your pay during the next contract cycle," Konan added, a trickle of irritation leaking into her exhausted voice.

With Hidan somewhat pacified, Kisame turned to nudge Itachi with his elbow, "Ready?"

Nope.

The younger man paled, "Ready."

They all put on their headsets and joined a channel with four other unfamiliar voices that were in the middle of some sort of debate about pasta.

 _"About time,"_ one voice teased, _"I was beginning to think y'all were too chicken to show."_

Kisame laughed, "Screw you, Suigetsu, I had to take a shower because, you know, I actually know what the inside of a gym looks like."

_"Aw, you showered? Just for me?"_

_"So all we were told was that you were trying out some new guy,"_ another voice cut in, _"Was there a specific game type you wanted to test?"_

To his left, Kisame scratched his neck and shrugged, "Standard four-v-four works for us, unless you wanna turn this into a normal scrim session."

They went back and forth, with some of the other players making jabs at one another on the side, and Itachi found himself laughing quietly to himself despite his nerves. A part of him wanted to say hello to Zabuza and congratulate him on his engagement, but he felt too new to the conversation to start talking without feeling like he was intruding. Itachi was just a guest here, after all. Eventually they settled on Lockout to get warmed up, which was a best-of-five game type with no respawns, before a best-of-three match in Stronghold, where you destroyed each others' bases in typical ARTS fashion.

Once the map was randomly selected the teams split up into their separate channels, and Konan looked over her monitor to offer an encouraging smile with a thumbs up.

Because of the lack of respawning in Lockout there was a lot less pressure on Itachi to perform as a support, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was intentional or not. The main objective of the game was to just wipe out your opponents as soon as possible, so as soon as the game started he activated his sprint and took off into one of the nearby tunnels that would take him around the map.

"Shit, Zabuza beat me to the overshield," Kisame grumbled as his icon on the map began to backtrack, "He's not too far from you, Deidara."

"Got it."

Itachi skidded around a corner and dropped a sentry ward while picking up an invisibility buff in time to see Mangetsu dash across his screen. He reacted on impulse, swapping his handgun for his energy sword, and sword-dashed into his character.

_Susanoo»cherrymoon_

"Nice," Deidara paused and his icon started to blink to show that he was firing his weapon, "Hidan you have any grenades?"

There was an explosion in Itachi's headset that sounded an awful lot like a plasma grenade, and he looked to his left to see Utakata's toon drop to the ground as _Curse»Bubbles_ appeared.

_Yogurt»C4_

"Itachi he's about to be right on your ass," Deidara didn't even sound phased by his death – a welcomed change.

He dropped another ward to give himself more vision before lobbing a grenade and jumping over a railing that would put him into the level below, already running back up the stairs by the time his feet hit the ground. Just as he expected, Suigetsu followed the sound of the grenade and ran right past Itachi as his invisibility buff finally wore off.

_Susanoo»Yogurt_

Suddenly, there was a grunt in his ears that sounded too much like his own character for Itachi to be comfortable, and it switched to third-person view to show Zabuza running away.

_SeverSword»Susanoo_

"Crap…"

"Don't worry about it," Kisame's eyes didn't leave the screen as his character tossed out a couple of grenades to smoke out Utakata from where he was trying to destroy a ward.

Itachi frowned, "Hidan, use your last plasma grenade to hit that barrel you're in front of."

"The fuck – grabbing the overshield – why?"

"The splash damage will destroy the ward they have glitched into the map around the corner. Then you can sneak up on them from behind while Kisame takes the damage."

_Samehada»SeverSword_

Well, that did all of the work for him. Utakata was just a support player so he didn't have a ton of points in damage or defense. Once the ward was destroyed, Kisame threw himself into his sights to get his attention and Hidan ran around a corner to perform an assassination animation.

The Hidden Mist team ended up taking the win in Lockout 3 to 2, but Itachi couldn't find himself too upset with their results. The other three were surprisingly easy to play with, and their communication was nearly flawless as Kisame called out shots and they kept each other updated with everything they experienced on the screen. By the end of the fifth match, he exchanged grins with Deidara and laughed with the rest of the group when Hidan made a bad joke about their loss just being a form of hustling.

He rubbed at the ache in his back while waiting for the main event to load. It seemed that even with a comfy faux leather chair with support in all the right places, his back would continue to bother him.

There was a sudden change in his headset's sound output and, before he could try to troubleshoot, he realized he had been put into a private channel.

"You okay?"

Itachi looked away from the lobby to peer up at Kisame, who was watching his futile attempt at rubbing out the ache with something of a concerned expression.

"My back gets tight," he shrugged and dropped his hand down to his controller, "It's nothing."

Obviously seeing through the faux nonchalance, Kisame frowned but didn't have time to ask any other questions as the beeping seven-second countdown to the match began. They jumped back into the group channel in time for the final _boooop_ to signify the start of the match.

The team immediately moved away from the starting platform to sprint into the actual map, Itachi already dropping a defense buff on Deidara as he engaged a group of NPCs that would jumpstart their point accumulation. It was early enough in the game for him to run off on his own to snag a few bot kills, so once he was finished with Deidara, he loaded up his rifle and ran up stairs that would take him up to one of the higher points of the map.

Aiming down the sights, he didn't waste time finding a couple of NPCs. Once Itachi carefully lined up the first shot, a headshot medal appeared on the screen and he was already realigning himself to drop the alien soldier next to him.

"Hidan, get your first req," Kisame ordered through the headset, "Itachi, cover him."

Itachi flicked the paddle with his ring finger to activate his sprint, jumping over the ledge and chasing after his teammate while switching to his sidearm.

"Grabbing a battle rifle."

"Get one with corrosive bullets. Mangetsu's been focusing more on his defense lately so the residual damage will help."

Hidan hummed and did as he was told – whether or not it was because he was in the zone, or because Kisame intimidated him into playing nice, was irrelevant; he was just glad that his bad attitude had vacated the room.

The handgun in his character's hand fired off two bullets, "Utakata's shield is down," one more carefully-lined shot, sights following the kimono-clad toon as he ran for cover, "He's out."

_Susanoo»Bubbles_

Even if it was early-game, running around like that in the enemy team's territory was exceptionally greedy, especially for a support player that had the job of staying out of danger.

Hidan jumped off of the requisition station with a battle rifle clad in an unfamiliar custom skin, "Heading for the overshield on the bridge."

Itachi saw Deidara's shield flash just as the bar on his screen dropped to zero, "Where are you?"

"At the Zealot spawn point beneath the pool," he answered, sounding a little stressed as his icon blinked and his health bar began to drain.

An objective, already? Itachi reactivated his sprint and ran towards the center of the map, ducking around a pillar and meleeing an NPC on his way. The map they were currently on was styled like a giant temple that had a massive reflection pool in the very center. Beneath it had a boss that spawned at the start of the match, as opposed to the others that spawned after so many minutes of gameplay.

_Curse»cherrymoon_

Jumping down the staircase, which resulted in his shield flaring angrily from the fall damage, he took out an NPC in his path and slid around a corner just in time for Deidara's health to hit the halfway point.

Itachi dropped a barrier shield and quickly cycled through the list of items for a quick health boost before starting on recharging his shield. The Zealot roared angrily through his headset and slashed at the flickering barrier with a gargantuan sword.

"Kisame?" They needed a tank to get this guy's attention, otherwise they were in for a hell of a fight.

"Almost there."

Hidan mentioned having dropped a handful of bots just a beat before the in-game voice told them that level three requisitions were available.

The second the barrier shield disappeared, Itachi tapped the D pad and flicked the controller shoulder to hit the objective bot with a slow. It would give them enough time to distance themselves from it, as opposed to him being right on top of the two.

Kisame's character came into view just in time to start getting its attention, and Itachi wasted no time in supplying him with a defense buff before turning back to Deidara to increase the power of his attacks.

"We should be good, Itachi," Kisame noted, pausing just long enough to set off a chain that dropped the Zealot's health down to half, "Go set up wards."

Without needing any further instruction Itachi turned on his heel and deactivated his sprint in favor of invisibility, and began to navigate through the hall that would take him out of the reflection pool, the barest of smiles playing on his lips.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Are you sure it's okay that I stay?"

Kisame looked up from whatever email he was reading on his phone at the sound of Itachi's hushed tone, "I'm beginning to think you're looking for a reason to leave."

He frowned, averting his gaze, "Of course not."

The two were sharing a love seat in the corner of the living room while waiting for Konan and Sasori to finish making dinner, which was insisted on that he stay for because apparently Konan made the best chicken meatballs that any of them had ever had. Itachi was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable as time wore on from being unable to do anything to help out with the process. Granted, he was about as good at cooking as he was building rocket ships, but it was the thought that counted. Sitting around waiting to reap the benefits of someone else's work just felt wrong.

Sensing his nervousness, Kisame sighed and tucked his phone between his legs, "Itachi, if we wanted you to leave then, trust me, we would've kicked you out once we were done," he murmured reassuringly, "Especially Hidan."

Itachi scrunched his nose and rubbed at his back, "Was he having a bad day?" The silver-haired man threw more profanities and hateful slurs in their hours of practice than anyone he had ever met in his life. It was like if 4Chan had permanently manifested itself into his consciousness.

"Nope, he's just a fuckass," Kisame pursed his lips to the side in disapproval, "If that pay cut doesn't get him to straighten up then I'm hoping Nagato cuts him loose. We're all getting tired of his attitude."

"Two of my teammates aren't too different, so I can relate," Itachi readjusted himself so that he was facing the other man on the couch, one knee pulled up to his chest.

Kisame grimaced at the thought of two Hidans, "No wonder you want out. Why did you even join them in the first place?"

"It was a better choice than the alternative," he answered quietly.

Kisame eyed him curiously, "Anbu was really that bad? You guys performed pretty damn well together."

Turning his head down to hide his grimace at the unpleasant reminder, and the pain that was quickly growing in intensity, Itachi reached into his pocket for two of the single-dosage packets of extra-strength Tylenol. They were the 500mg tablets so they usually took of the edge off of the pain as long as it didn't get too bad. Assuming he wouldn't be there longer than another couple of hours, he would be fine.

Once the pills were popped into his mouth, he tossed his head back and reached for the bottle of water he had on the floor to wash them down. The action gave him a couple of seconds to think of a proper response; Itachi wasn't entirely sure how close the teams were to each other so he didn't want to risk bad-mouthing them.

"There were... Some disagreements," he finally muttered, "A certain player and I didn't quite mesh as well as we could have, and I felt it was best that I take my leave before things escalated."

Kisame hummed, brow knitting in thought, "Did it have anything to do with why you were hospitalized last year?"

With the water being finished off, Itachi frowned and stuffed the crinkled foil packets through the bottle opening so he could throw them away later, "You heard about that."

"Literally every esports news outlet covered it, Itachi," he responded with a lilt to his voice, "It's not every day that an ambulance is called to a team house in the middle of the night. And, with the way you guys were so hush-hush about it..." Kisame let the sentence trail off, not needing to finish it.

He couldn't blame him for being curious. The Team Anbu Reddit moderators deleted and locked any thread that even mentioned the hospital visit, and anyone who brought it up in their Twitch chat was immediately timed out or outright banned regardless of their subscriber status. Both the manager and the coach made it very clear that they wanted the situation to disappear completely so they decided to suffocate it like they would a grease fire.

You could only put up with that kind of environment for so long before something needed to change.

"You don't have you talk about it if you don't want to," Kisame noted, shifting on the love seat so he was low enough to rest his head on the back cushions, "It had to've been something real shitty."

Itachi paused long enough to consider the idea of letting him in on just the general idea of the situation but, after a brief pause where he leaned into the cushions to mirror Kisame's position, he frowned apologetically, "It's not an experience I'm keen on sharing with many people," he nearly whispered.

Instead of looking impatient, or disappointed, at the rejection, Kisame just looked... Sad.

"That's alright," he lifted a hand to brush Itachi's bangs away from his face, "I understand."

His eyes fluttered when Kisame's fingers lingered on his cheek for just a second longer.

"You look tired," Kisame murmured.

Shrugging, Itachi settled deeper into the squishy seat cushions, "It's been an exciting day."

A slow, lazy smile stretched across the older man's face before he shuffled in closer, tugging the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa so that it dropped into their laps. Itachi groaned and laughed quietly when it was pulled up to his shoulder, "Are you trying to make me fall asleep? Because I will," his eyes were already fighting to stay open when their combined body heat began to accumulate beneath the heavy knitted fabric.

Across the room, Deidara raised an eyebrow and dragged his gaze back to the television set.

"Nah, if I wanted you to pass out then I'd take care of that back problem you just took a thousand milligrams of acetaminophen for."

Itachi hummed, "'s that so?" He lifted a hand to rub at his eyes with a yawn. He highly doubted that even the most skilled chiropractor would be capable of fixing whatever damage he had done to his back, and was somewhat content with popping a couple of pills every day to keep the pain at bay.

Taking a deep breath, Kisame pushed himself up off of the back of the furniture so that he was sitting upright, patting Itachi's thigh, "Lemme try," he scooted to the edge of the edge of the seat and motioned for Itachi to do the same, "Lay down on the floor."

"No," he nearly whined, exhausted and absolutely not okay with the comparably cold rush of air from the blanket falling to Kisame's hips. Itachi grabbed the forearm closest to him to pull him back, "I'm so comfy. Let's just stay like this."

After a moment of blinking in surprise, Kisame's grin returned and he sank back into the cushions per Itachi's request, dragging the blanket back up to their necks, "You know we'll have to get up once dinner's ready," he chuckled, dropping his hand down close enough to Itachi's for him to feel the warmth emanating off of it.

He frowned and shook his head before snuggling deeper in the blanket, "Guess I'll just starve," he mumbled almost incoherently, clumsily knocking his glasses off of his face so they weren't being pushed off of the side by the sofa cushion he was using as a pillow.

Another soft laugh bubbled up from Kisame's chest.

Itachi liked when he laughed.

"I'll wake you up when it's dinnertime," he whispered, tucking Itachi's hair behind his ear.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nearly three hours later, Itachi pulled his glasses off to set them on the nightstand next to his bed before dropping onto the covers with a heavy sigh.

Shisui chuckled from where he stood in the doorway, "Not even gonna bother getting changed, huh?"

He shook his head and felt his body deflate into the mattress. The last time Itachi ran a scrim that intense was against Will of Fire when he was still with Anbu; he had forgotten what it was like to play with top-tier teams as training.

With the practice runs that the Uchiha team started at eight in the morning, his ass, back, neck, hands and head were sore from intensively playing video games all day. A true child of their generation, suffering from as first-world as problems can get, Itachi's brain had been reduced to scrambled eggs and shut down the second he said his goodbyes to the team and jumped into the back of an Uber's car. He honestly couldn't even bring himself to remember what had happened before dinner - having been much too worn out for his brain to properly process anything - and mostly remembered eating spaghetti and meatballs and passing out in some stranger's sedan.

He'd probably wake up in the middle of the night regretting going to sleep in a button-down and sneakers, but it would take an act of god for him to put that much effort into disrobing.

"So you think it went okay?" Shisui asked after shutting the door behind him.

Good lord Itachi hoped so. Playing with Team Uchiha, and practicing with lower-ranked teams, had him rusty as all hell so he could only pray that he was able to impress them. The initial plan was to just run a best-of-three match with Hidden Mist – turning that quick tryout into an all-day event must mean something good, right?

His groan was mostly lost into the pillow that his face was buried in.

Shisui made an amused noise in the back of his throat, "If it makes you feel better, apparently Zabuza told Haku that you gave them a shit ton of trouble. Apparently they weren't a fan of the way you use map glitches."

"Hss gettin' married," he grunted.

Shisui nearly choked on his soda, "You're getting _married?!_ "

Itachi rolled his eyes and, with a dramatic sigh, rolled his head enough so that his face wasn't totally enveloped in the pillow as sleep pulled at his eyes, "Haku. And Zabuza. They're engaged."

"Oh, yeah," he responded dumbly, eyes returning to a normal size, "Did I forget to tell you?"

Itachi stared.

Shisui ran a hand through his curls and grinned sheepishly, "Whoops."

It was about that point when Itachi's body went from exhorting sleep to insisting on it, and he gave up trying to fight his eyelids from sliding shut.

The last thing he heard was Shisui laughing and shutting the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 3

"What the fuck?! You were trying out with Akatsuki?!"

Itachi looked up from his plate of microwavable pancakes to blink at the teenager that decided he was going to start out his day by shrieking. With anyone else he would ask a traditional "What?" but knew that Sasuke most definitely did not require a prompt to continue.

"Were you going to _tell_ any of us?! Or were you just going to high-tail it out of here once you found a new team?!"

His eyes flitted over to the oven clock that read 7:32. When teenagers were so notorious for sleeping in until late afternoon, how was Sasuke finding the energy to create a shitshow in their dining area so early in the morning?

"Answer me!"

Itachi set his fork down next to his syrupy pancakes as he began to understand that Sasuke wouldn't leave without some sort of an explanation, "How did you even find out?"

Scoffing, the teenager dramatically lifted the phone in his hand to flail the screen in front of his teammate, "Their coach posted a video on fucking Instagram!"

Did she? Itachi took the phone from the outstretched hand so he could get a better look at it. Sure enough, the Akatsuki eSports Twitter had a cross-posted Instagram link that read ' _We have a visitor today. Think he knows we're looking for a support player? - Angel_ '

When he opened the link, there was a video of him laughing in time with Hidan and Kisame at the smack-talking banter Deidara was in with Suigetsu and Zabuza. Itachi had been so absorbed in the moment that he was completely unaware that Konan was getting a video for their social media.

Imagine that.

Itachi handed back the phone and looked down at his rapidly cooling pancakes with a frown, "Players change teams, Sasuke," it was only by the grace of the gods and his impressively learned self control that he managed to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "It is a regular occurrence."

What was ironic was that Sasuke had transferred to Team Uchiha from Taka, which he joined after Leaf eSports kicked him off for not being compatible with his teammates, so he was already well aware of how little time many players spent with organizations.

"Why didn't you tell us?! Fuck, Itachi, were you even going to give us a heads up before you left?!"

There was an unfamiliar ring in Sasuke's voice that Itachi couldn't put his finger on, so he knitted his brow and looked up from his sad plate of sodden, processed breakfast to meet his gaze, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

Except, he wasn't looking at him. Sasuke's eyes were glued to the counter that the older man was sitting at, and his mouth was set into a hard line. His hands tightened into fists and he dropped his eyes to the floor, "I know… We never really got along, but… Couldn't you have at least said _something_ before leaving us?"

That was when it clicked.

He didn't want Itachi to leave.

Sighing, he pushed his plate away to let Sasuke know that he had his attention. For as insufferable of a brat as he could be, Sasuke wasn't a terrible kid that was always angry. He just had a loose handle on his emotions, acting on what his heart wanted as opposed to thinking things through, and was probably suffering from a profound loneliness that came from being in the professional gaming industry. It was difficult to make friends when you were only with a team for maybe six months at a time, and it sure as hell wasn't any easier for a kid that was still trying to figure out what kind of person he was, and where he fit into society.

Guilt settled down on Itachi's chest like a weight and, without thinking, he slid off of the bar stool and rounded the counter to gather Sasuke up in his arms.

"You're right, I should have brought it up sooner," he admitted, "I'm sorry, Sasuke."

He didn't return the embrace, but Itachi could feel the teenager turn his head down so his forehead was buried into the crook of his neck.

"Nothing is set in stone. It was simply a trial run."

Sasuke huffed, "A trial run in their house. In _person._ "

Well… Yes, alright, he had a point. It was pretty strange, and relatively unprofessional, to host tryouts in the manner that it had been handled, but Itachi had no answer to that so he stepped back enough to meet Sasuke's downcast gaze.

"Look at me," his voice was gentle, but authoritative, and he didn't continue until the teenager's eyes slowly crawled upwards to look Itachi in the eye, "You're right in saying that our relationship has been rocky, at best," he tilted his head down to keep Sasuke's gaze when he tried to look away, "However, that is not to say that it must remain as such. Plenty of teammates stay in contact with one another long after their careers take them in separate directions."

Haku and Shisui immediately came to mind but, because Itachi figured that bringing up a _Melee_ player that Sasuke didn't know would only confuse him, he ignored the urge to make the reference.

"A lot of organizations are based in San Diego and LA so if I do end up leaving, and if you're willing, I would be more than happy to meet with you when possible."

Pursing his lips together and to the side, Sasuke's eyes dropped to pointedly stare at Itachi's chest, spiky bangs which were mussed from sleep covering most of his face.

He was pouting.

Itachi fought the urge to laugh for Sasuke's sake and turned back to grab his pancakes off of the counter so he could reheat them. After a second of thought, he also grabbed his coffee and threw it in with the plate.

Before he could try to liven the mood with whatever small talk he could manage, which honestly wasn't much, his phone started to ring from where it was sitting on the countertop. Itachi typically liked to start out his day with reading news – both esports and real-world news – so before Sasuke marched into the kitchen with guns blazing, he had been reading an article on his phone about Trump winning the most recent primary. Until now, the poor piece of technology had been lying off to the side, forsaken by its master.

More importantly, though, who was calling at nearly eight in the morning? Didn't that go against some sort of marketing law?

Swiping the phone from the tiled surface, Itachi felt his stomach flip and his heart leap into his mouth when he saw the caller ID. He quickly swiped right on the touch screen and brought it up to his ear.

"Good morning, Kisame."

Sasuke bristled.

_"Oh, hey!_ " Kisame sounded genuinely surprised that he had answered, and there was an awkward pause as if he didn't quite know what to say next.

The microwave beeped, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, desperately trying to keep his voice even as his nerves were sent into a frenzy. Was this about the tryout? Was this a rejection call?

A beat.

_"Are you busy today?"_

Itachi nearly spilled his coffee, "Pardon?"

Kisame laughed, a breathy, nervous sound, _"Yeah, I guess Nagato wants to see you play with us."_

"I thought your coach recorded everything, though," he looked down at his pancakes longingly and tried to pretend he was just content with sipping at his coffee.

_"She did, I just guess he wanted to see everything himself,"_ Kisame yawned and made a noise one would make on the tail end of a satisfying stretch, which led Itachi to believe he may have been woken up by his manager's demands, _"Anyways, I told him I'd give you a call to see if you're available to come by the house again."_

Sasuke huffed and stomped away; it didn't take long for the slamming of his door to be heard.

"We don't typically practice on Saturdays, so I don't see why there would be a problem," Itachi tried to keep the sigh out of his voice as he set his pancakes back into the microwave so he could reheat them once the call was over, "I don't suppose you have a time in mind?"

There was another pause, and Itachi opened his mouth to make sure that they hadn't lost their connection until he heard Kisame ask, _"You wanna get breakfast?"_

This time, he really did spill his coffee. He hissed and reached over for the dish towel hanging on the oven handle.

_"I mean, if you haven't eaten yet. I figured I could come get you so you don't have to waste money on an Uber - ."_

"Kisame..."

_"And since it's so early, we could wake up by getting some food - ."_

"Kisame."

_"That way by the time we get back to the house, everyone else will be up - ."_

"Kisame, you do not need to make up excuses for us to hang out," Itachi would have laughed if there wasn't an underlying current of panic in the older man's voice. What happened to the abundance of confidence from earlier that week? Was Sasuke so irritated with the situation that he was somehow channeling himself into Kisame?

That would be a circus show if he ever saw one.

Kisame chuckled nervously again, _"I'll, uh, keep that in mind. So…?"_

"I would appreciate it if you gave me time to shower this time but, yes, breakfast sounds lovely."

His poor, untouched pancakes would have to be passed on to Shisui, it seemed, or anyone who happened across where they were laying in the microwave. It was just as well, Itachi lost his appetite the second he caught a glance at the caller ID.

_"I gotta jump in the shower, too, so I'll be there in about an hour?"_ He could practically hear the smile in Kisame's voice, and his own lips twitched upwards.

"Drive safe."

The call ended and Itachi spent several seconds just staring at his phone in silence as his mind slowly worked to process the conversation he just had. The manager for Akatsuki eSports wanting to personally observe a potential future player interact with his team made sense, but there was something about the breakfast invite that felt… Less related to his candidacy than he would like.

When Itachi looked up from his phone, he couldn't hide his surprise at seeing Shisui leaning against the fridge.

"You know I'm your friend, Itachi - ."

"It's isn't like that," he stuffed his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants and took a sip of coffee to give himself time to think of what else to say, "Their manager wants to see how we interact with each other."

Shisui frowned, bringing his hand up to his face to rub at the sleep in one of his eyes, "But you still took an invite to breakfast, even though you already had something ready for yourself."

His body stiffened from head to toe as his eyes drifted towards the microwave. Shisui wasn't wrong – he had breakfast prepared, and Itachi knew he would like the heavily-processed pancakes more than he would the higher quality ones at any restaurant, yet he still accepted an invitation and even acknowledged that Kisame was just using Nagato as a reason to spend time together.

"I just…" Shisui sighed heavily and ran a hand through his curly hair, "The thing with Kakashi… I mean, it wasn't even that _long_ ago, Itachi. I don't even know if you've gotten better, or if you're just so focused on the game that it _seems_ that way."

Eyes dropping to watch the coffee that swirled in his mug, Itachi shifted uncomfortably at the reminder.

"And if you do end up joining Akatsuki, what if it happens again, and you're trapped in a contract - ?"

"It won't happen again," he nearly whispered.

He looked up in time to see Shisui's gaze soften, who pushed himself off of the fridge to find his way over to the coffee pot. "I'm not saying you can't look out for yourself," he explained quietly, in case others in the house could hear them, "I just don't want to see you like that again. And if something _does_ happen, I'll be across the country in New York and… I won't be able to be there for you."

Itachi watched him pour his coffee before reaching over for the sugar, regret settling onto his chest like an anvil from a Wile Coyote animation. It was too late to call Kisame and cancel, which could create tension between them that would ultimately hurt his performance in front of Nagato, but he found himself dreading seeing the Akatsuki's team captain in forty-five minutes.

"Just… Just promise me you'll be careful," Shisui mumbled, stirring his beverage even after the sugar dissolved, "I don't wanna see you get hurt again… Especially not like that."

There weren't enough words in the English language to describe how much he appreciated the caring man that twirled his spoon through his coffee nervously. Shisui was like a brother to him, he really was.

Itachi stepped over to him so he could pluck a bit of fuzz out from his messy locks, "I promise to be careful this time."

Shisui's cheek twitched, and he straightened up from where he was leaning on the corner to pull the slighter man into a brief hug that was tight enough for Itachi to have to struggle to breathe.

"You better go get ready, then," he said warmly, squeezing Itachi's shoulder as he walked by with his mug in hand, "Let me know how everything goes."

He didn't respond, knowing that it wasn't expected, nor needed, so Itachi washed out his mug in silence and nearly dragged his feet on his way to the shower. It wasn't Shisui's intent to unsettle him like he did, but Itachi found himself thoroughly mulling over every detail he could recall as he washed his hair longer than necessary.

In the back of his mind there was a small voice that reminded him that they could be completely overthinking the situation, that Shisui jumped the gun and Itachi allowed himself to be swept up in his worries, and that Kisame was most likely a perfectly harmless straight man that was nothing short of genuine.

However, in the forefront, Itachi was remembering what pushed him to run away from Team Anbu long before his contract was set to expire.

The he more he thought about it, the more anxious he felt.

It was common knowledge that seeing superiors outside of a work setting wasn't advisable, because of the power imbalance, and it was generally accepted that only sleazy businessmen looking to further tip the power scales in his favor took candidates out for meals. Did that exist in the professional gaming industry?

What if this was Akatsuki's way of convincing him to get roped into a bad contract?

What if Kisame was really like... Him?

Itachi grew nauseous at the thought. Kakashi made use of his position in Team Anbu as a way to wrangle him into submission and, even if they had completely different demeanors, he wasn't so naive that he couldn't spot the similarities.

So when it came for Kisame to knock on the door, long after Itachi threw a hoodie over his t-shirt and jeans, it was difficult to keep his face neutral as they started to walk to his car.

"I wish I could say that I know of some hole-in-the-wall place that's a magical discovery, but we're just going to a First Watch that's near the team house. Is that okay?"

Itachi shrugged and hummed.

Kisame was seemingly oblivious to the tension in the younger man's face as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "It's just the only place I know that has breakfast that isn't just essentially fried batter and greasy bacon," he explained. A thought must have occurred to him then, because he suddenly reached out for his iPod and handed it over without looking down at the screen, "Oh, and I was on Soundcloud the other night, just sort of letting it run through random songs, and I found this artist called Louis the Child. He does remixes, which I know isn't the same as Of Monsters and Men, but I thought you might like it."

Itachi raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to make of that, and looked down at the iPod that had been all but tossed into his lap. After a few seconds of scrutinizing the object like a bomb squad member would look at a mysterious bag left in an airport, he eventually unlocked the screen and scrolled through the list of artists until coming across what Kisame had mentioned, playing the first song he found.

A small part of him felt triumphant for at least getting the part about computer-generated music right about Kisame, even if the song was technically just an electronic-slash-deep-bass remix. Itachi bit his smiling lips between even teeth, letting his eyes slide shut as the chorus for Paris rolled around. Some of the tension began to bleed out of his muscles, and his suppressed smile fought to expand when Kisame turned the volume up.

It really did sound nice.

His eyes opened to roll over the contours of the other man's body, lingering on the intricate patterns of the tattoo that wrapped around his entire upper arm. There was so much going on, with octagonal circles, straight lines, triangles, tilted squares, a circle that almost resembled a lotus, that Itachi couldn't help but find himself almost entranced by the plain black ink that squirmed and twisted as Kisame's arms moved with the steering wheel.

The system of earrings adorning his ear were just as intriguing. While not as complex as the tattoo on his arm, or as peculiar as the ones under each eye, the ear facing Itachi was full of jewelry. At first it almost looked as if he just kept adding more and more piercings until he began to run out of space but, the more he looked at it, the more he realized that a fair amount of planning must have gone into it. If you ignored the tragus stud and started at the daith, the assortment of jewelry followed the shape of Kisame's ear to form a conch-like spiral that ended with a small stretched lobe.

In a way that Itachi didn't quite understand, it was like a beautiful piece of art.

Itachi raised a languid hand to the stereo to turn the volume back down as the song came to a close, almost seamlessly rolling into the next one that had an almost tropical beat.

"Kisame."

His flitted over to steal a glance in his direction, "Hm?"

"Why did you ask me to have breakfast with you?" he asked surprisingly casually. Maybe it was the music, or the way Kisame seemed so comfortable, but Itachi found himself almost at ease with the situation as they pulled off of the highway. When he opened his mouth to respond, Itachi tacked on, "If you tell me it's because of the team, pull over so I can go home on my own."

If this had anything to do with the team, at least one of the others would have been in the car with them.

Kisame grinned sheepishly, and the muscles in his forearms flexed as he tightened his fingers on the steering wheel , "Yeah I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to get away with that," he half-laughed.

Itachi stared.

"I just really enjoyed being able to talk to you the other day," Kisame shrugged, "I wanted to spend some time with you before getting to work."

Not even the music could keep the remains of Itachi's smile from settling into a hard line.

The car pulled into a parking stall, and was put into park, but no effort was made to kill the engine and neither of the men removed their seat belts. It didn't take a Jedi to sense how dissatisfied he felt with the response delivered, so Kisame's grin faltered. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, words laced with what sounded like legitimate concern.

The tone of his voice wasn't what got to Itachi, though – it was the sheer intensity in the way he was looking at him. His eyes were incredibly blue, but so light that they were almost silver, or cyan, and had a dark ring outlining the iris. It was the type of eye color you never saw outside of heavily edited photographs, and Itachi marveled at how they could so quickly change from looking warm and bright, to startlingly keen and almost hypnotizing.

It threw him off balance, and he had to avert his gaze. "I just don't understand."

Kisame sighed, releasing the steering wheel to shift his body so that it was facing the passenger seat, one arm propped on the center console. "Look, I like to think I'm an easy guy to get along with," he started, all traces of his enthusiasm having vacated his voice, "But I don't _click_ with a lot of people – I don't usually walk away from conversations wanting more. Even if it was just small talk about music and our mutual friends, I wanted more of that." He paused for just a moment, "I wanted more of _you._ "

Itachi's frown deepened in a way not entirely unlike Sasuke's pout from earlier.

"Hey… If it's what you want, I've got no problem with taking you back to your place, or skipping breakfast and going straight to the team house for the tryout," Kisame said quietly, "But, first, can you at least tell me why you agreed to meet with me if it makes you this uncomfortable?"

As he spent more time under the almost burning gaze of the man next to him, Itachi found himself beginning to feel more and more like a piece of shit for being this distrustful. He felt his body shrink in on itself, and he unconsciously reached over his shoulder to rub at the ache in his back.

If Itachi was one hundred percent honest with himself, he would admit that he agreed to meet with Kisame because he wanted more of that connection, too. It wasn't often that he had the chance to meet people he genuinely liked talking to, and their short conversation from before seemed to flow so organically that Itachi almost couldn't believe that it was their first time meeting. That same chemistry even made itself known during their gameplay, and in their mindless chatter on the way back from the Akatsuki house.

"I… Have a couple of demons I have yet to shake," he nearly whispered, "I was letting them get to me, and that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

"But you _did_ want to see me?"

Itachi looked up from beneath his eyelashes to meet Kisame's expectant gaze, "I want to see you."

Just like that, the clear intensity vacated the other man's face and a slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't the bright, cheery smile from before, but a soft expression that was surprisingly gentle.

It made Itachi feel light.

"I mean it, though," Kisame's voice was low as he readjusted himself, leaning more into the seat than on his elbow, "The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You'll tell me if you are, right?"

Itachi's hand drifted away from his lap so he could brush the back of his pinky along Kisame's, but stopped himself partway through, and tried to disguise the movement as simply returning the iPod back to rest in one of the cup holders.

"Of course," he returned Kisame's smile with his own, "Are you ready to head in?"

The way Kisame's eyebrow twitched told him that it wasn't the smoothest recovery, though he didn't bother with asking any questions, which Itachi was thankful for, and they both stepped out of the car and made their way across the parking lot without much conversation other than commenting on how lovely California's weather was in January.

They were seated almost immediately, which Kisame claimed to be "Damn near a miracle" on a Saturday morning, and Itachi made a noble attempt to not scrunch his nose in disgust when their drink orders were taken.

"Kale juice?"

Kisame half-frowned, "You ordered coffee and chocolate milk, but _I'm_ the weird one?"

Itachi rolled his eyes with a slight grin, "Once I show you, I guarantee you will be asking for my extensive list of restaurant hacks," he thought back to what he said earlier about other breakfast places, "You aren't one of those crazy health nuts, are you?"

"I take care of my body, Itachi," Kisame gave him a once-over, "Something you should probably do, too."

Now it was Itachi's turn to frown, "Meaning?" Um, rude.

With a laugh, Kisame rubbed at the back of his neck, "Sorry, that came out real dickish, didn't it?" When the only response he got was a deadpan stare, he chuckled again and held out his hand, "Here, let me see. You can tell a lot just from someone's hands."

Itachi gave him a suspicious glare, but he was beginning to find himself more and more drawn into that lopsided grin and found himself setting the menu on the table to slide his hand over.

Kisame's hands completely enveloped his, and the first thing Itachi noticed was how pale and delicate it looked in comparison as he rolled his hand over to look at the top. They were also calloused and warmer than he expected, but not uncomfortably so.

"Judging by the thinness and flakiness of your nails, and these little white spots," Kisame used the hand not cradling his own to tap Itachi's ring finger, which had the most prominent spot, "You're probably deficient in zinc, or protein. And, if how fucking freezing your hands feel is anything to go by, your circulation could be better, which could probably be improved by exercising…" his hand shifted so that his index and middle finger rested over his pulse, "And you're anxious."

For a fleeting moment Itachi bristled and immediately parted his lips to defend himself but, when Kisame's eyes lifted to study his face, he realized that the other man wasn't trying to make fun of him, or make him feel bad about his lifestyle choices. If anything, he looked thoughtful – concerned, even.

"You also drink too much caffeine, and not enough water, and don't get anywhere enough sleep…" Kisame's brow furrowed, "And I'd bet money on you having a vitamin D deficiency."

Itachi shifted uncomfortably – just because he knew that he wasn't being attacked didn't mean he wasn't bothered by how easily read he apparently was.

"It's customary to reveal that you're a witch doctor before inviting them inviting them for breakfast," he mumbled, averting his gaze.

Kisame laughed, which made the fingers still wrapped around Itachi's flex, "Shit, you don't need to be a witch doctor to be able to pick on your body's cues, Itachi!"

He wanted to keep pouting, but damn it all if the sound of the ever-present smile in his voice didn't pull at Itachi's cheeks. Peeking up through his lashes, he met Kisame's warm gaze and bit back a grin, "Forgive me."

A welcomed distraction came in the form of their waitress returning with their drink orders. Kisame ordered enough food to feed any normal human being for three days, including a bowl of fruit, a clusterfuck of an omelet with vegetables and salsa, some sort of muesli bowl and a side of chicken sausage.

To say that Itachi's order of toast paled in comparison would be an understatement.

Kisame frowned when the other man began mixing his chocolate milk into his coffee before reaching over for a sugar packet and one of those little cups of hazelnut creamer, "You've gotta be shitting me."

Itachi sniffed and set the remainder of the milk off to the side, "I don't like bitter things."

"Itachi, I don't even think that counts as _coffee_ anymore," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke, "You drink this every morning?"

He shrugged, downing nearly half of his mug and raising a suspicious eyebrow when Kisame slid his glass in his direction.

"Try it."

Itachi couldn't keep the expression of disgust off of his face.

"I _promise_ it's good."

He raised his mug to back his lips in defiance, "Kisame, I have tried kale before and I have no intention of ever allowing it back into my life." He made the mistake of trying it in the form of a salad that Haku made years ago.

With a disapproving frown, which was twisted by that stupidly charming grin that never seemed to leave his face, Kisame nudged the glass forward, "You can hardly even taste it over everything else. I swear it tastes more like apple and cucumber than anything else."

That still sounded incredibly off-putting, and did not appeal to Itachi's admittedly picky palate whatsoever, but he sighed dramatically and reached out to drag the glass over the rest of the table. He eyed the straw, wondering if he was expected to drink from it or not and dreading the fact that he would have to feel the unsettling sensation of glass against his teeth as he nudged the it to the side.

It was cold, and a little thicker than he expected, and Itachi had to admit that Kisame was right in saying that the apple was the most distinguishable flavor out of the medley even if there was still an undeniable taste of kale trying to hide beneath the other ingredients. The ginger was probably the most surprising, though it was mostly because Itachi wasn't expecting it.

After a second, he took another sip that was noticeably larger than his experimental one.

Kisame _beamed_.

"It isn't awful," Itachi huffed, sliding the glass back to its rightful owner and biting back a grin when Kisame laughed at his refusal to admit how refreshing it was.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping at their beverages and simply enjoying each others' company. It was nice to just be able to relax and enjoy the morning for what it was, which was something that Itachi rarely had the opportunity for, as raucous as Sasuke and Baru could be. He normally found himself counting down the minutes for them to wake up and start jumping at each others' throats, or hiding with Shisui in one of their rooms with their laptops, or playing _Smash_.

There was a lightness to the current mood, though, and Itachi thought that he wouldn't mind having more mornings like this.

Their quiet was interrupted by the server bringing by enough plates of food to feed a family, setting most of them in front of Kisame. In Itachi's eyes it definitely looked like a daunting task to try and consume in one sitting but, given the other man's size, he wondered if it was necessary for him to maintain that amount of muscle mass.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, though, Kisame scooted the bowl of fruit over so that it was in the center of the table.

"You need more than two slices of toast," he said gruffly.

Itachi paused in the middle of peeling back the flimsy foil seal of the single-serving strawberry jam packet, "Do you normally make a habit out of getting on other peoples' cases for what they eat?" It wasn't meant to sound as accusing as it did, but Itachi's tone was sharp enough to make Kisame pause in cutting at his omelet with a fork.

A guilty smile pulled at his lips, "Only when I like them."

He… Had no response for that.

Heat flared in Itachi's cheeks and he picked up a fork to stab at one of the smaller chunks of honeydew, "So what did you do before _Shippuden_?"

"I was a physical therapist," Kisame explained once he swallowed his mouthful of omelet, "Worked in a private practice for about four years. You?"

Itachi's brow furrowed in confusion. He had been expecting something along the lines of him being a college student, which was a pretty common story in professional gamers that joined the scene in their twenties, not an actual occupation. "What made you shift paradigms into gaming?"

There was a pause while Kisame thought. "I never really thought about it, actually," he admitted, "I guess I just wanted to try it while I was still young enough."

He did it on a whim? "But what about your career?"

Shrugging, Kisame dug into his muesli bowl now that his omelet was annihilated, "It's not going anywhere. Our careers usually only last about five years so, unless I end up going balls-deep and start an organization of my own, it's really more of a break than anything else."

Itachi hummed and tore away a piece of toast, "Even so, five years is a considerable amount of time to be away. Aren't you worried about falling out of practice?"

"Nah, I take refresher courses to stay up to date, and a lot of the Akatsuki people are more than willing to let me work on them."

"I can imagine," he responded mildly, popping the last of his toast into his mouth. Working at a desk was rough on your back and hips as it was, and a lot of pro players started developing all sorts of issues as their careers wore on – especially in their hands, wrists and necks. Many suffered from deteriorating eyesight, too, from staring at computer screens for so long.

As if on cue, the ache next to his shoulder blade flared up.

Frowning, Itachi reached into his pocket for his usual stash of a drugstore's worth of Tylenol.

Kisame eyed him as he popped the white pills into his mouth, tossing his head back with the last of his milk, "You okay?"

"Just a headache," he lied. Itachi kept his gaze on the rapidly diminishing collection of fruit, spearing a sliver of strawberry with his fork. He could feel Kisame's eyes still on him as he chewed.

"So what about you?" he asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, "You never answered."

Itachi's shoulders relaxed as best as they could with the pain and he tried to not make it too obvious how relieved he felt when Kisame chose to not press the issue. "I was a pianist."

"Yeah? Like, were you one of those people that played in restaurants or…" Kisame hummed, brow furrowed, "I've actually got no clue where piano players play."

His lips quirked upwards, "Many are instructors, and some travel to events across the country year-round, sometimes as an accompanist or in orchestras. However, I suppose that it's generally more common to see many pianists wind up working in restaurants or churches as a side job."

Finishing off his muesli bowl, Kisame set it onto the plate that used to hold his omelet and sipped at some of his water, "So where did you fit?"

Itachi stiffened and realized almost immediately that this turn in the conversation wasn't any better than what it was before. He peeked up at the man sitting across from him from under his eyelashes, wondering how he would respond.

"When I wasn't teaching freelance, I worked in a brothel," he said matter-of-factly after a moment's hesitation.

He watched Kisame's fingers twitch in response but, otherwise, he didn't react.

"I didn't know those places hired piano players," he answered stiffly.

Itachi could hear the question he was trying to subtly have answered, and he picked up his napkin to tear the corner to keep his hands busy. "Most don't, but the owner of that particular establishment prided himself on provided what he called an up-scale atmosphere," he explained, "He felt it would help customers feel more at ease if we presented more of a hotel lobby experience, as opposed to most Vegas brothels that were…" Itachi tore another chunk of napkin and scrunched his nose, "Lamentable."

It was the most subtle way for Itachi to give the impression that he was not a former prostitute, without actually blatantly saying it. 

The chair Kisame was seated in creaked with the weight shift as he leaned back, folding his thick arms over his chest, "Fair enough. Why'd you leave?"

Itachi looked up from his partially-shredded napkin to raise a delicate eyebrow, "You're asking why one would choose to quit working in a whorehouse?"

Picking up on the incredulous undercurrent to his voice, Kisame shrugged wordlessly. He looked simultaneously curious and uncomfortable but was making an admirable attempt at suppressing the latter, so Itachi pinched his fingers together on a frayed edge of the thin paper to pull at it until the fibers separated, deciding not to further the teasing.

"The establishment catered to a wide variety of tastes, so it featured both men and women," he shifted uncomfortably, uncomfortable with how he was finding himself trying to lie without _actually_ lying, "I found out that my employer decided to change my position in the company, without my consent, after a number of patrons displayed an interest in me."

Kisame hummed, "How'd that go?"

"I was given the option to accept the 'Promotion,' or I could find work elsewhere. My teaching jobs didn't pay nearly enough to even pay rent, so Shisui suggested I get into competitive _Shippuden_ with him."

A breathy, sardonic chuckle escaped Kisame's lips, "You'll tell me all that, but you won't talk about why you carry around thousands of milligrams of Tylenol in your pocket, or why you left Team Anbu?"

Itachi matched his soft laugh with one of his own, "I suppose my priorities are somewhat skewed," he admitted, "The Tylenol is just for a bothersome ache in my back."

"And Anbu?"

He lifted his gaze just long enough to meet Kisame's, before tearing another shred of napkin away, "That's hardly a story to tell over breakfast."

There was a moment where that same intense expression from earlier returned, where those clear blue eyes stared at him in a way that felt almost piercing, as if Kisame was staring right into his head, but after a quick pause he shrugged as if to say he wasn't going to push the issue.

Proving herself to be a hero for the second time in one morning, the waitress returned with two black check books, effectively saving the pair from another bout of uncomfortable silence. They both scooted their chairs back and navigated through the mass of tables and booths towards the counter, with Itachi plucking one of the complimentary mints from the tiny wicker basket next to the bucket of pens.

The air had warmed significantly by the time they made their way back out to the parking lot, and Itachi was flirting with the idea of removing his hoodie when Kisame stopped in front of his car to turn back and face him.

"Thank you."

Blinking owlishly, Itachi came to an abrupt halt just a couple paces away, "What?"

Kisame stepped back to sit on the hood of his car, arms folded over his chest, "You came out with me even though you were in a pretty shit mood, and I could tell you weren't all that comfortable talking about where you used to work, so…" he lifted his head to meet Itachi's softened gaze, "Thank you."

"I should probably be the one thanking you," Itachi shrugged off his sweater and lowered himself onto the hood next to him, "I don't get out often, so I ended up overthinking the situation by the time you came by," he folded his arms across his hips and gave Kisame a soft smile, "It was nice, though. I enjoyed myself."

A warm, gentle smile slowly spread across Kisame's face, and he lifted a hand to brush Itachi's bangs out of his face, "Good. I'm glad to hear that you don't regret coming out with me."

Itachi's eyes lingered on that smile for several seconds longer, feeling his own expand a little at the sight.

He was really beginning to like Kisame's smile.

Eventually he very, very slowly leaned over to rest the side of his head on the other man's shoulder, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction when Kisame didn't stiffen up or pull away. Instead, he felt him gently rub the back of his knuckles against Itachi's, who nudged back until their fingers were lazily entwined.

"Kisame?"

He felt him turn his face down so that his cheek was resting atop Itachi's, "Hm?"

With the tip of his finger, he traced the design at the bottom of Kisame's tattoo, "Can we stay like this for a while?"

Itachi watched as his fingers squeezed his in their backwards hold.

"Yeah, I don't wanna go back yet, either."

The warmth of the sun on their backs and the soft feeling of Kisame's body must have made him drowsy because, the next thing he knew, Itachi was opening eyes he hadn't realized had closed to see the parking lot almost completely full of cars.

Surprise prompted him to flinch almost violently, and he pulled away to whip his head around as if surveying the lot would answer the questions that flew through his head.

Kisame didn't seem the least bit perturbed, though, because he only chuckled and released his fingers to rub the small of his back, "Relax, it's only been maybe half an hour," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice, "The church crowd usually shows up in one big wave."

"What time do we need to meet with Six?" he asked blearily, the adrenaline rush from waking up in an unfamiliar place wearing off, as a breeze rolled through the parking lot. It was one of those cool winds from the ocean that felt even colder from the warm sun, and Itachi subconsciously snuggled into Kisame's side in a vain attempt at using his body to shield him.

"He said he doesn't have anything else planned, so pretty much whenever we feel like dropping in," Itachi felt the hand on his back smooth over to rest on his waist, "But… Can you do me a favor and keep quiet about this?"

The light, happy sensation in Itachi's chest was instantaneously replaced by an uncomfortable weight not unlike the feeling earlier when he first felt doubt over meeting Kisame for breakfast. It was like someone had just dumped a cooler filled with ice water over him as he was resting on the beach, shocking his entire system. Twisting out of what previously felt like a comforting hold, he slid off of the hood of Kisame's car and began fishing his phone out of his back pocket.

Kisame swore under his breath and immediately followed suit, "Wait – _shit_ – Itachi, that came out wrong."

"Did it?" Itachi hummed, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice as he pull up his banking app to make sure he had enough spare money in his checking account for an Uber. As much as he loved Shisui to bits, he wasn't prepared just yet to call him with the news that he was, in fact, right to be suspicious.

He nearly dropped his phone when Kisame grabbed his upper arm to pull him to an abrupt stop, "Yes, it _did_ ," he released Itachi's arm when he was given a particularly caustic expression of faux interest, "If you wanna go, I won't stop you, but at least let me explain what I meant, instead of running off thinking I'm some sort of asshole."

Itachi paused long enough to give himself a moment to think. On one hand, this was the team captain of Akatsuki eSport's _Shippuden_ roster who, if he wanted any chance of joining, he should be getting along with. On the other hand, Itachi had allowed himself to get involved with exactly two people who demanded they keep things under wraps, and both of those people ended up proving themselves to be a special brand of guy-you-absolutely-do- _not_ -introduce-to-mom.

On a third hand that was thankfully only metaphorical… Kisame was looking at him so earnestly that it was making Itachi feel like maybe he actually had genuine intentions in bringing him out here.

Without closing out the app, Itachi locked his phone and shrugged away from the hand on his arm to stuff it back into his pocket.

Realizing that he was being given a chance to a explain himself, Kisame sighed in relief and rubbed a hand over his face, combing through his hair.

"I said I enjoyed my time with you, and so did the rest of the guys," he spoke in a carefully measured tone, as if processing what he was saying before actually saying it this time, "We agreed that you came off a little clumsy during scrims, which we guessed was because you've been with lousy teammates, but we still thought you were a really good fit," Kisame folded his arms over his chest when Itachi's eyes narrowed, "This whole thing with Nagato is basically to just stick to protocol."

And this had exactly what to do with why Itachi was feeling as if his heart had dropped into his stomach..?

With a heavy sigh that shook with his nerves, Kisame continued, "They want you on the team – _I_ want you on the team – but if they found out I used them as an excuse to invite you out, Nagato and Konan might think that it's the only reason I was so adamant on getting you into tryouts."

Which could potentially lead to a bad impression of Itachi, and the diminution of Kisame's legitimacy – it could possibly even lead to legal ramifications if that kind of rumor got out to the rest of the community.

For the second time that morning, he began to feel like a real piece of shit.

"I want to be able to spend time with you, but not at the risk of damaging all of our reputations," Kisame explained, taking a step forward so that he was close enough for Itachi to smell whatever sinfully fantastic body wash he used, "That's why I want to keep this quiet until you get settled in."

A half-hearted laugh made its way past Itachi's lips, "This," he echoed, still having no clue what this entailed.

Thankfully Kisame was a good sport and laughed with him, raising a hand to brush away the bangs that fell over Itachi's face when he began to stomp away, "Yeah, I'm sorry," he chuckled, "This wasn't the smoothest date I've been on."

He snorted and resisted the urge to lean into the fingers carding through his hair, "Oh, so _that's_ what this was supposed to be."

Kisame groaned, "See, now you're just trying to be difficult."

"No, really," Itachi bit back a grin at the smile still in his voice, "What on Earth made you think that I would want to go on a date with you? We've known each other for a week – for all you know, I'm betrothed to a lovely girl in Nevada."

"I'm pretty perceptive. You really want me to give you a play-by-play?"

"Not particularly," he hummed, wishing that the happy feeling from earlier would replace the heavy weight that seemed to insist on being present. Just because he had a good time with Kisame didn't mean that he couldn't still end up being a problem, and the insisting on being quiet – as much sense as it made – was ruining the moment with suspicion.

Kisame's chest rumbled as he chuckled, dropping his hands down so he could lace the tips of their fingers together, "So, Itachi, will you go on a _real_ date with me?"

He fought to hide the feeling of objection that he knew would have otherwise crossed his face. Kisame came off as a nice guy, so nice that he apparently had a taste for worrying over how well other people took care of themselves, and he sounded sincere earlier when he was offering to take him back to the team house if he was uncomfortable…

But Shisui's words and his own past experiences were floating through his head, keeping his jaw snapped shut.

"You don't have to say yes," Kisame said, voice low enough to remind Itachi just how close they were standing.

Of course he didn't have to agree to a date he didn't want to go on – he wasn't some teenager with low self esteem that didn't know how to reject someone. The problem was… Itachi didn't _want_ to say no. He wanted more mornings like this, where he got to relax and chat and simply enjoy the kind of warm company that Kisame provided. He wanted to be able to feel the rough calluses on Kisame's thumbs when they rubbed over the backs of his hands like that, and he wanted to feel that same security he felt earlier when his arm was wrapped around Itachi's waist.

Itachi figured that the question wasn't if he was ready to take that kind of risk again, but if he was going to let that damnable man continue to control him with fear for the rest of his life.

Maybe he was over thinking this entire situation again. It wasn't as if Kisame was proposing they start a serious relationship full of kinky sex like Haku and Zabuza…

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Itachi paled and felt his stomach twist. Kisame was still good friends with Zabuza, and they both shared multiple qualities, like being captains of professional gaming teams, frequenting the gym and, well, being gay, so would it be so much of a stretch to assume -?

Kisame released his hands and stepped back with an obviously restrained sigh, snapping him out of his increasingly panicked thoughts.

"Alright, so do you mind if we make a pit stop at the gas station on the way back to the house?" he asked in a tight voice, disappointment apparent in every one of his features, from the tightness in his brow to the way his broad shoulders slumped as he started to turn back to the car.

Itachi didn't know which made him feel worse – the way that Kisame was frowning, or the fact that he was the one that put it there.

He followed Kisame and reached out for the other man's arm, wrapping his slender fingers as best he could around Kisame's bicep to pull him to a stop, not too unlike how Itachi had been grabbed earlier. Despite not having anywhere near enough stopping power to bring Kisame to a full halt, the gesture itself seemed enough on its own for the older man to turn back to face Itachi.

"I'll… Try to not ruin the next date," he said with a weak smile.

There was a moment where Kisame's mouth was set into a hard line as his eyes traveled up and down Itachi's body, as if assessing his body language before answering, but his frown was soon replaced by the crooked grin that was beginning to really make Itachi happier than it should.

Kisame reached out with the arm not still in Itachi's grasp to cup his jaw, "C'mon, I'd hardly say it's ruined," he said warmly while his thumb rubbed rhythmically along his cheek, "We've gotta get all this stuff out of the way eventually, right? Maybe it's better to do it in the beginning."

Had it been anyone else, he would have subtly twisted away from the heavy hand that held his face. He would have stepped away, offered a quiet goodbye, and taken an Uber back to the team house to begin looking for a new team. Had it been anyone else, Itachi wouldn't have slid his fingers down the contours of his arm to lace their fingers back together.

But it wasn't someone else, and Kisame seemed to have a frightening way of making him feel warm and at ease.

"I wish it was just that," Itachi murmured, eyes following him as he stepped back to sit down on the hood of his car.

Kisame shrugged, "Everyone's got their issues. People who don't, are probably too young for me to be interested in, anyways."

A part of him wanted to protest, to explain that he was more than just a handful to deal with, but Itachi wondered if he would be doing it to save Kisame the time and energy, or to sabotage whatever they could have early-on so it wouldn't hurt as bad when it ended.

Instead, he let himself be guided to the passenger door by the hand, rolling his eyes and laughing when Kisame, who was walking backwards with that stupid goofy grin on his face, tripped and nearly toppled over.

That stupid, happy, lopsided grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way too much time drafting up team rosters and assigning pro names. Like you have no fucking idea lol. I even have a little notebook (The RWBY one from Loot Anime if anyone else got the Haunted crate) that's like halfway full XD


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone pointed out that the lingo isn't that friendly to non-esports fans or people who don't understand MOBAs or _Halo_ , so I'm gonna be editing the first chapter to include a note that has a sort of lingo guide to make things a little easier. Mah bad, fam.  
> Also, I'm just kinda adding the chapters from FF but they're being revised one-by-one so y'all are getting, like, the collector's edition of the story. Good for you :']

"Soooooooo," Shisui belly flopped onto his bed and cradled his chin in his palms, kicking his feet back and forth like a teenage girl in an '80s flick, "How'd it _goooo?_ "

Rolling his eyes, Itachi pulled out the rolling chair to drop into it, "It went… Well."

Well was most definitely an understatement. Maybe it was because Kisame was right in saying that their chemistry as a team was genuinely strong, but his second run with Akatsuki was noticeably better the second time around. Itachi was actually thankful that Nagato insisted on observing another trial session in person.

Shisui beamed, "Yeah? Like the manager digs you?"

"I didn't have much time to get acquainted with Six, but it wasn't an unpleasant meeting," Itachi drew his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, "He kept things professional and informed me that he would be contacting Madara once a decision was made." His eyes traveled around the room as Itachi struggled to remember exactly how his friend's room looked before he packed everything into cardboard boxes. It was amazing how taken for granted the little details were until they were gone.

The edges of Shisui's hooded eyes crinkled with his smile, "You've got no clue how excited I am for you, man."

Itachi snorted and rolled his eyes again, "Says the one that _actually_ was signed to an esports juggernaut. Nothing is set in stone for me yet."

The back of his pocket rumbled twice. He pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen, immediately biting at his lips to keep them from stretching into a grin when he saw who the text was from.

_please tell me you know anime._

Shisui rolled onto his back with as much flourish as he could manage, "I'm leaving forever in two days and you're ignoring me?! Better be _real_ fucking important."

As much truth as there was in his words, Itachi chuckled and shook his head, "Quit whining. You and I both are fully aware that it's not that easy to get rid of you."

_Racist implications aside, yes._

He knew enough, though he wasn't anywhere near a connoisseur.

"Damn straight. Who ya talkin' to?" Shisui plucked his pillow from the top of his bed to hug it to his chest, looking every bit as exhausted as he probably was. That was a part of transferring teams that sucked – sometimes you had to completely uproot yourself within an incredibly tiny window, which meant you were packing and sorting out travel plans when you weren't working. And, because Shisui was still technically team captain on paper, he was stuck running practice sessions with the rest of Team Uchiha on top of preparing to move.

Itachi was glad he didn't have that much stress sitting on his shoulders.

His phone vibrated again and he tore his eyes from his sleepy friend to glance down at the screen, "Kisame."

_fuck you lol  
deidara is out so sasori is making me watch something about vampires i think? i have no clue whats happening._

Shisui's eyebrows jumped to his hairline and he rolled himself back onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, "What's he want?"

"Presumably, he wants me to explain whatever anime Sasori has subjected him to," he hummed, tapping his thumbs across the tiny keyboard.

_What is it called?_

"Anime," Shisui responded suspiciously, narrowing his eyes in confusion, "He's talking to you about… Anime."

_tokyo ghoul_

Itachi frowned at the man that was staring back at him with an expression that could only be described as wary.

"What happened when you went out last week, man?"

"I had toast."

_"Itachi."_

He avoided Shisui's gaze by staring down at his phone, "We decided that it would be nice to start… Casually seeing each other."

There was a pause where neither of them said anything but, after a few seconds of listening to the rain patter against the window pane, Shisui nodded and looked down the floor, "You like him?"

"I've hardly had the time to get to know him, Shisui," Itachi said almost dismissively, more as an act of self-preservation than anything else, "But…" he felt his cheeks start to flush, "So far, yes, I have enjoyed time spent with him. He's fun, and kind…" And the way he stared at you when he thought you weren't looking…

Itachi bit at smiling lips.

"Alright, spare me the gory details," Shisui teased, cuddling into his pillow, "You're gonna give me weird dreams that, to be honest, I don't need to be having about my best friend."

He laughed, both from Shisui's teasing and from the happy bubbly feeling in his chest, and stood up from the computer chair he was lazily oscillating in, "On that note, would you like to be woken up for dinner?"

The older man's eyes slid shut with a subtle nod, "Please."

By the time Itachi flicked off the lights and made his way into the kitchen to snag a treat from his cabinet to hold him over until dinner, his phone had received a whopping eight text messages from a comically panicked Kisame.

_okay so this purple haired guy is sniffing blood_  
is this their version of sniffing panties? cuz he seems real into this shit  
when i say i wanna eat someone this isnt what i have in mind.  
oh god  
what is even happening anymore. help. 

He fought the urge to laugh at the text messages as they continued to blow up his phone, plucking a Zebra Cake roll from the cabinet and wasting no time in tearing the package open. Upon realizing that Kisame wasn't going to stop any time soon, he tapped his contact information and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Pardon me if I'm interrupting anything, but if you continued at that rate then you would completely deplete my battery," he hummed, chucking the thin plastic wrapper into the trash can.

Kisame chuckled on the other end, and he could hear movement in the background, _"Nah, you're giving me an excuse to escape so I should be thanking you."_

Itachi rolled his eyes and grinned to himself, "I suppose I can't blame you," he said, cake placed at his lips, "That's not exactly the crème de la crème of anime."

_"As excited as he was to show me, I'm sure Sasori would beat you for that."_

With no answer in mind, he hummed and took a second bite of his cake, relishing in the way the over sweetened, processed icing tasted in his mouth. If Itachi were ever to pick a religion, it would be one solely dedicated to sugar. Or Little Debbie. He honestly wasn't too picky.

_"So… About that second date."_

Itachi had to hit the mute button when the cake lodged itself in his throat not unlike Shisui's recent bout with a Swiss Roll. What timing.

_"There's this bar I went to a couple weeks ago with a bud from Seven Sword…"_

Oh. Itachi felt his heart slowly sink as he wiped away his choking-induced tears.

He wanted to get him drunk.

_"… And it's actually a pretty nice place. I thought that it would be nice to go Friday night, if you're free."_

"I do not drink," he said flatly, frowning at his currently untouched second cake roll. Suddenly, Itachi had little interest in eating.

Kisame definitely picked up on the crestfallen tone in his voice, because he immediately worked to save face. _"No, no, I'm not asking you to get shitfaced with me,"_ he explained earnestly, _"It's more about the atmosphere of the place than the alcohol, I promise, though they have some pretty fuckin' good cocktails."_

He could almost see the expression on the other man's face as he tried to prove his sincerity. Itachi would bet that Kisame's shoulders were a little stiff, and his brow was furrowed slightly with worry, like how he looked when Itachi was leaving him in the parking lot of First Watch.

He wanted to believe him, he did…

With a sigh, Itachi folded one arm over his chest and leaned back into the counter, "Kisame, may I be frank?"

 _"Uh... Yeah, of course,"_ he responded slowly, a guarded edge to his voice.

"I had fun with you, and if I said that I didn't look forward to the idea of seeing you again then I would be lying," he tilted his head back so it thunked against the cabinet, "However… That being said, I have zero interest in fucking - "

_"Whoa, hey - "_

"Let me finish," Itachi bit his lip and closed his eyes, immediately regretting being sharp, "I'm sorry. I'm not angry, but… If you're looking for someone to get drunk so you can nail them in the back of your car at the end of the night, then I don't want to waste your time."

There was a pause where the only sounds that could be heard was Kisame's gentle breathing on the other end of the line, and the low rumble of thunder in the distance. When he finally responded, his voice was low and laced with a hurt that made Itachi's heart sink even further with guilt.

 _"I don't know what I did to deserve that, but if I just wanted some tail then I'd take home some random twink at a meat market bar,"_ he said quietly, _"But I'm not looking for casual sex, especially not from someone that's wasted."_

Dammit… He overreacted.

Again.

"I'm sorry…" he nearly whispered, "You're right. You didn't deserve that."

 _"It's alright."_ Kisame sounded sincere, which only made Itachi feel worse.

"No, I've already lost my temper twice -."

 _"Itachi,"_ he cut in, _"No one's perfect. Everyone has their issues. I fuss over other peoples' health, you're sensitive about sex. I understand, so don't stress over something that doesn't need to be stressed over."_

Itachi tapped his foot on the linoleum, feeling small and shitty for already having picked two fights with a man that had been nothing but kind to him.

_"Babe?"_

He snorted delicately, "Babe?" he echoed.

Kisame chuckled, a deep, throaty, closed-lipped laugh that sent tingles down to Itachi's toes, _"Sorry. Are you free today?"_

"I thought you wanted to meet on Friday?" Itachi looked over at the clock on the stove, "It's nearly seven in the evening."

 _"Yeah, I just… I just really wanna see you right now,"_ Kisame sounded a little embarrassed, if not cautious, _"We can stay in. I'd just rather be with you than talking over the phone and staring at my wall."_

Maybe it was because Itachi craved that warm, light feeling he seemed to have whenever the other man was around, but he had to agree that he would prefer seeing Kisame over sitting in his room by himself. There was a sense of validation to Kisame's claims about not being upset, or offended, that came with the offer, too, and Itachi really, _really_ wanted to say yes.

There was one problem, though. "It will be hard to keep things a secret if you start hanging around the house," he mumbled, finding no appeal in having to remind himself and Kisame about the fact that they've devolved into teenagers that snuck around their parents in secret.

Kisame clearly shared his sentiment, because he grumbled something under his breath and was quiet for a couple seconds as his mind worked to find a solution.

 _"This sucks,"_ he eventually sighed.

"Friday's not far away." It was actually in only three days.

_"I know, but I wanna see you now."_

Against the rather mellow mood that still lingered from his little outburst, Itachi's lips quirked upwards at the almost needy tone in Kisame's voice, "The best things come to those who wait, you know."

Kisame mumbled again, and Itachi suppressed a laugh with his wrist, "You're obnoxious."

_"I'm lonely."_

"You're _bored_."

There was the sound of a door clicking open down the hall and, after a few moments of shuffling, Baru appeared around the corner and gave the other man a raised eyebrow. It was his night to prepare dinner, so Itachi took the hint and picked up his zebra cake roll before leaving the enclosed area. For some reason Baru insisted on being the only one in the kitchen when he cooked. He also insisted on using enough spicy peppers to turn the entire team house into a chamber full of mustard gas.

"Would you like to get some pizza?"

Itachi could almost see the way Kisame's ears perked up like a puppy's that just heard his food bag being shaken, _"Really?"_

He rolled his eyes and stepped into his room to find his wallet, "No, I'm just asking so I can dangle the prospect in your face as a joke," he responded sardonically, snatching up the familiar double-fold from his nightstand.

 _"Cheeky,"_ Kisame laughed, _"If you want, text me what you like and I'll pick it up. We can eat it here and you can show me what the cream dey luh cream of anime is."_

Itachi laughed surprisingly loud and thumbed through his cash, " _Crème de la crème._ And what about your teammates? Are you planning on hiding me in your bedroom like a teenager?"

A pause.

He sighed as his grin expanded, "For the love of god, Kisame."

_"Well we don't really have many options, do we?"_

"I suppose not," he chuckled, "Let me know when you get the food so I know when to get a Lyft."

_"Alright. See you soon."_

Itachi spent the next several seconds biting his smiling lips between his teeth as he stared at his phone. The complete and utter lack of planning that seemed to come with knowing Kisame was something that would have normally left him feeling squicked and on edge, but there was something almost… Exciting about a last minute pizza-date. Itachi was so used to thinking into everything that happened, and meticulously noting each and every detail to anything he did, that he found there was a bounce in his step at the prospect of an impromptu evening plan. 

Eventually he was able to pull himself together long enough to shoot out a text with his pizza preferences and chuck his phone to the side so he could focus on getting ready. Yanking some clean jeans off of a hangar, and a thin white t-shirt that hung a little too loosely off of his frame, Itachi made a beeline for the bathroom for a quick shower. It wasn't as if he expected this to be a scenario that required him to be on his a-game, but his hair hadn't been washed in three days and the collective heat from the PCs and the team during practice left him feeling rather grimy.

There was another clash of thunder and Itachi briefly wondered what were the chances of him getting electrocuted if lightning hit the house. Was that still an issue that homes faced in the twenty-first century?

Once he was finished, he popped his head around the corner to ask Baru to wake up Shisui for dinner, to which he received a response of a disinterested shrug and a "Whatever. Sure."

Itachi would have taken the time to actually make sure that his teammate would do what was asked of him, but the sheer amount of spice that had been cooked into the air was making his throat itch, so he found himself tip-toeing into Shisui's room to set an alarm on his phone. He probably could have gone to the duplex over to have Obito wake him up, but Itachi typically tried to avoid his coach and his equally-prickly manager when he could.

Then came the matter of finding an anime to watch. He wasn't by any means an otaku, and had only attended one convention with Haku and Shisui after they all but begged, so there were only a couple of shelves of DVD cases in his room. Kisame probably wouldn't be able to keep up with something like _Umineko_ , and most likely would become bored with a drama title such as _Nana_ …

Actually, thinking about it, he had no idea what kinds of shows Kisame liked.

Itachi's phone buzzed with a text from the man of the hour. It was a picture of two pizza boxes stacked beneath what looked like three boxes of sides, with the caption _hope you're hungry._

Good lord, the stomach on that man. It was kind of endearing, once he stopped trying to imagine himself fitting that much food into his belly.

Itachi ordered a driver from the Lyft app and turned back to his small media collection, eventually plucking the first volumes of _Durarara!!_ and _Eureka 7_ off of the shelf. He might as well bring some sort of variety and, if he didn't like the sound of those titles, then there was always Netflix or Hulu.

What had started out as a general spring shower had turned into a torrential downpour by the time his ride came around, and Itachi was regretting that he threw out the military-esque jacket that Yugao bought him for Christmas a couple years ago. It was the type of jacket that was thick, but not heavy, and did a fantastic job at preventing rain from seeping through to your clothing. As it was, however, Itachi was half-soaked as he slid into the backseat of the unfamiliar sedan, murmuring greetings to the driver.

"Holy shit, babe, did you fall in a _lake_?" Kisame reached out for the younger man as he scurried up the steps, his upper body now thoroughly drenched and freezing. The driver insisted on keeping the AC set to subarctic, so Itachi had no qualms with allowing himself to be pulled into an embrace. Kisame was as warm as he was large, and his body heat was more than welcomed by this point.

"Towel. Please," was all he muttered when they pulled apart. Itachi shrugged off his hoodie so he could make an attempt at wringing it out while Kisame went in search for a couple of clean towels, but the shirt clinging to his torso was still going to be a problem as he continued to drip all over the porch.

Thankfully the rain was much kinder to his lower half, which was only a little damp in the front and on the sides. The worst of the damage was from sloshing around in rain puddles, so Itachi just rolled up the bottom of each leg into a cuffs around his skinny ankles. At least he didn't put too much effort into his appearance this time around…

"How'd you even get this wet?" Kisame asked once Itachi wrung out his hair and t-shirt as best as he could, "It's not raining that hard."

"I stopped at a convenience store for a couple of drinks," he raised the small plastic bag that was sitting at his feet. Even if they were pretty short distances, walking to and from a car multiple times in the middle of a rainstorm was enough to turn him into a drowned rat.

Kisame frowned and stepped over the threshold with his hoodie, hanging it up on the coat rack and dropping the towel on the floor to catch any excess drips. There was something clearly bothering him about his story, he could see it in the way Kisame's eyes rolled over his shivering form with an almost disapproving expression, but he didn't voice his concerns so Itachi didn't raise any questions.

Maybe it was because he was still so new to being around Kisame, but he couldn't help but take notice in just how small and almost fragile his wrist looked as he was led up the stairs by the hand. Being Asian American meant that Itachi had a light caramel color to his skin tone, but it had paled somewhat from the freezing rain and was still almost completely washed out by the deep tan of Kisame's; it seemed to put even more emphasis on just how different they were, both physically and mentally.

The familiar boyish grin was back on Kisame's face by the time they slipped into his bedroom. Itachi had to suppress a giggle when he wiggled his eyebrows and clicked the door shut with as much flourish as he could manage.

It was like they were polar opposites.

Itachi liked that.

Just as soon as it appeared, the smile he flashed faltered when he watching Kisame reach for the lock on the handle.

"Uh… Would you mind terribly if you kept it unlocked?" he asked, trying to hide the small burst of anxiety that jolted through his system. Having the door closed was fine, but there was something that felt almost trapping about the idea of having it locked from the outside world.

Itachi didn't even realize that he had been twisting the hem of his still-wet shirt until the other man shrugged and dropped his hand from the handle, "No problem. Just habit – Deidara doesn't really bother with knocking," he gestured at the stack of Papa John's on his desk that sat next to a roll of paper towels and two plates, "Food's there. Do you wanna hang up your clothes to dry?"

Fighting the urge to grimace at the idea of sitting around in just his trunks, Itachi pulled his hair out of its hair tie to comb through the sodden locks that had been knotted by the rain with his fingers, "I'd much rather not be naked _and_ damp," he murmured.

"I wouldn't make you sit around in your underwear, Itachi," Kisame nearly guffawed, pulling open a dresser drawer to rifle through it, "My stuff probably won't fit you, but it's warmer than a wet shirt that's already thin enough for me to see your nipple ring poking through."

Heat flared in Itachi's cheeks. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest to cover himself, looking down to see that his current chilled state was doing him no favors in the decency department.

For the love of god…

"A shirt would be nice," he managed to croak out a few long moments of mortification later.

Kisame laughed and produced a plain black t-shirt and a dark blue pullover, presenting them to Itachi and laughing again when he snatched them out of his hands. "Bathroom's right across the hall."

By the time he scampered out of the room and peeled out of his drenched t-shirt, Itachi managed to get his flaming cheeks under control as he looked at himself in the mirror. There was a soothing relief that came from slipping Kisame's soft shirt over his head, where it hung rather loosely off of his admittedly thin frame. The hoodie nearly dwarfed him, too, hanging down past his butt in a way that almost made him resemble a teenager. When his inky black hair was pulled from its tie so he could comb his long fingers through the rain-induced knots and clumps, though, he froze. 

What was he _doing?_

Sneaking out of the team house, holing up in Kisame's room, wearing Kisame's _clothing?_

The anxiety from earlier started to creep up Itachi's throat. His chest felt like a vacuum seal bag that just had all the air sucked out of it, and he had to use both hands to stabilize himself against the bathroom counter as the room began to spin. 

He looked back at his shirt, which was slung over the shower rod. Itachi should just put his shirt back on, pay whatever he owed for the pizza, and call Shisui to get him. 

He shouldn't have let this happen. It was too much, too fast. He only met Kisame maybe a couple of weeks ago –

But then he reached out for his shirt, letting his fingertips grasp the icy fabric, and Itachi realized that he didn't _want_ to leave.

He was just _scared._

He was scared to go back into that bedroom and enjoy himself with the first person that had made him feel warm and happy for so long.

He was scared of getting hurt.

And fuck it all if he wasn't scared of walking out that front door and never seeing that cheery lopsided grin in the same light that he did now.

This was so messed up.

He took a few long breaths to calm his nerves, clutching the fabric over his chest as if it would bring his heart rate back to a normal speed.

_"Everyone's got their issues. People who don't, are probably too young for me to be interested in, anyways."_

_"No one's perfect. Everyone has their issues. I fuss over other peoples' health, you're sensitive about sex. I understand, so don't stress over something that doesn't need to be stressed over."_

Itachi laughed sardonically at his reflection when Kisame's words from earlier that night echoed in his head, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw red and yellow starbursts. This was ridiculous. He was psyching himself out over nothing. 

Kisame gave Itachi a curious look when he finally stepped back into the room, quickly dropping something into his nightstand drawer like a kid that almost got caught with a porno mag, "Did you fall into the toilet?" 

He rolled his eyes, "I left my shirt to hang in the bathroom if that's alright?" 

With a shrug, the other man looked back down at the two DVD cases that had been abandoned on his bedspread, but there was a look of almost relief in his expression that didn't go unnoticed, "I don't think anyone'll care - hey, should I be offended that you think I would only be interested in robots and gangs?"

"I had a feeling you wouldn't be interested in romances and high school dramas," he mumbled, reading the labels of the stacked boxes for his pizza, "How much do I owe you?" There was no total on the labels.

Kisame hopped off the bed and pulled the mountain of cardboard apart so that they were set in a line, "Don't worry about it – oh, uh…" he pulled open one of the smaller boxes, which contained a small blueberry pie cut into wedges, "You have a sweet tooth, right? I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just kinda wung it."

Itachi frowned at the man next to him that was handing him a plate of spinach and mushroom alfredo pizza, "This was my idea. I should pay." A beat, "Also, thank you," he added as an afterthought while he all but undressed the pie with his eyes. He wondered if he knew that blueberry was his favorite, or if it just happened by chance that things turned out like that.

"I was the one that bullied you into coming out in the first place," Kisame pointed out with a wink, opening up another box to reveal what looked like barbecue wings, "And I ordered more than you can probably even eat."

His frown deepened, "But – "

Kisame reached out with one hand to brush the drying bangs out of the smaller man's face, "Itachi, you won't be owing me anything if you let me foot the bill. Alright?"

The plate in his hands suddenly became very interesting, and Itachi lowered his gaze to take in every detail in the steaming pizza slices.

There he was.

Ruining everything.

Again.

With his plate full of wings and pizza, Kisame led him back to the bed, scooting up to rest against the solid black headboard and motioning for Itachi to do the same. When they were properly settled into the pillows, he set his plate in his lap and looped an arm around Itachi's shoulders to pull him in close enough so that his nose was nestled into his drying hair.

"You're not doing anything wrong," he murmured, as if able to read his thoughts.

They parted so they could eat their rapidly cooling food, with Kisame using a remote to play the _Durarara!!_ disc that had been popped into his PlayStation. He must have loaded it up when Itachi was in the bathroom so he didn't bother with asking when he had actually picked it out, instead asking why he picked it over the mecha option.

"It seemed more interesting than the child soldiers," he shrugged between mouthfuls, "And I've seen a bunch of people cosplay that chick in the motorcycle helmet online."

"It's one of those shows where you have to be constantly paying attention, so I hope you aren't the type to repeatedly glance down at your phone to check social media," Itachi cracked open the much too-sweet can of green tea that he picked up from the gas station to wash down the slice of pizza he just finished, dropping the crust back onto the plate.

Kisame frowned, "Babe, if you're one of those people that don't eat the crust, we're gonna have a problem."

He made a face and picked up his second slice, "First of all, I don't want to hear a _peep_ from someone that eats monstrosities like _that_ ," Itachi motioned at the slice of a disaster of a pizza that Kisame was biting into, "Second of all, I save the crusts for last. They're like free breadsticks."

"Monstrosity? You wound me."

"Kisame, that looks like something out of a horror movie."

"You're being dramatic," Kisame picked up a piece that had yet to have a bite taken out of it and lifted it up to Itachi's face, "Try it."

His face twisted into an expression of half-fake disgust, "Absolutely not."

Kisame bumped it against his lips, "C'mon. Just the tip."

"You're obnoxious," Itachi snorted, turning his face away while wrangling with a grin that threatened to break his snooty façade.

"That's the second time you've called me that today. I'm gonna start up a swear jar just for you."

Itachi eyed the pizza slice that was still hovering in front of his cheek. It was on a thin crust with barbecue sauce instead of normal pizza sauce, light cheese, chicken, tomatoes, pineapple, jalapenos, pimientos and black olives. Under no circumstances would he ever even consider throwing those things together and try to call it a pizza, but the expectant look in Kisame's gaze told him that this was clearly a very normal thing for him.

Eventually he sighed, if a little dramatically for show, and turned his head to take a mouthful of the catastrophe that was next to his face.

It… Was not good.

It started out alright, really. The pizza crust, cheese and barbecue sauce didn't taste too strange at first – it was just when the tangy, sweet vegetables joined the fray that everything went awry, though thankfully he didn't get a mouthful of jalapenos.

What only made it worse was the fact that apparently Itachi didn't bite all the way through the cheese to separate it, because nearly half of the slice slipped off of the crust to whack him in the chin with an indecently loud _slap._

While Kisame began to almost vibrate with suppressed laughter, something he earned a very sharp glare for, Itachi reached up with both of his hands, one to catch the toppings from tainting the pizza slice in his lap and the other to tear the cheese apart.

"I'm so sorry but," Kisame reached over for the wad of paper towels he set on the nightstand, still laughing hard enough for tears to form in his eyes, "Itachi – god – you look like a little kid who just got put in timeout."

If looks could kill, Kisame would have been buried six feet under when he was hit with a new wave of laughter after meeting Itachi's gaze again.

He promptly wiped the sauce off of his chin, dropping the excess wad of cheese and toppings onto his plate, and wiped at his greasy fingers before chucking the dirtied napkin at the man that had a hand slapped over his mouth to keep quiet.

"That is literally a sin against the culinary arts," Itachi grumbled, unable to hide the grin that tugged at his lips now that the mortifying experience was over, "I hope you're proud of yourself."

Kisame, having pulled himself together enough to manage conversation, wiped at his eyes, "Ah, well, I tried…" he glanced up at the television, "I have no idea what's happening."

Rolling his eyes, Itachi was beginning to understand why exactly he wasn't able to figure out the plot to _Tokyo Ghoul_ , "I told you to pay attention!"

"Don't even care. Worth it," he laughed, pulling apart a chicken wing.

Itachi spent the next couple of minutes explaining what happened since they stopped watching the episode, explaining the concept of the Dullahan to Kisame and why Celty's motorcycle sounded like a horse when she revved the engine. He went on to provide the basic information for why Shizuo wanted to kill Izaya, which he honestly didn't entirely understand himself so he just explained it as "Past transgressions" that Izaya made in the past.

The problem was that Kisame insisted on looking at him while he talked, which meant he missed more, which was forcing Itachi to essentially give a play-by-play.

"Just pay attention and you'll understand," he finally said, setting his plate on the nightstand.

Kisame scooted his butt down a bit so he could plant his feet on the bed and bend his knees, "I'd rather hear you explain it."

"I'd rather you just watch."

"I'd rather you not be so mean to me."

Itachi snorted.

The conversation died off there, and the two were left in a comfortable silence as they watched the Dollars talk about the Blue Squares in their chat room. It was a similar silence to the one at the restaurant, one that didn't hang in the air or feel like there was empty space between them, and Itachi eventually scooted down like Kisame did so he could lean against his shoulder. It was faint, but he could still smell the spicy-scented body wash Kisame used in his shower this morning, and Itachi was beginning to feel like it was befitting of a man that could go from warm and cheery to intense and solicitous on the turn of a dime.

He turned his face down to watch the tip of his finger trace the intricate tattoo that extended past his elbow, his dark eyes following each swirl and sharp angle. Itachi heard online that getting sleeves were an absolute nightmare in the pain department, especially over the elbow, and were almost always staggered out into three or four sessions to avoid traumatizing the skin too much. He wondered if Kisame did the same, or if he sat through it all in one sitting.

"You seem to like touching those," Kisame noted, "And staring at them."

His fingers paused, and Itachi's cheeks twitched to tug his lips into a sheepish grin, "I suppose I could have been a little more subtle…"

In response, the hand that was resting in his lap rubbed at Itachi's outer thigh with the backs of his knuckles, "Lemme guess, you've never seen tattoos in person?"

He shook his head and laced their fingers together with the hand not still outlining the ink, "There were quite a few in Mangekyo and Anbu that had tattoos, but none like yours."

Kisame hummed, letting his head rest atop Itachi's, "I got this one done when I was visiting family in Nuku'alofa," he lifted his elbow a bit in gesture, "Hurt like a son of a bitch, but I don't trust artists in the States to get this stuff right without needing explicit directions."

So he got it done in one sitting? Goodness. "Are you from Nuku…"

"Nuku'alofa," he chuckled, "And no, I just have family there. I was born Neiafu, which is one of the bigger towns in Tonga but on a totally different island."

Itachi wasn't going to pretend like he knew much about Polynesian geography, so he looked up to peer at Kisame's face, only mildly surprised to see that Kisame had long since turned away from the television to gaze down at him. "When did you move to the States?"

There was a sad flash in his eyes that told Itachi he just struck a nerve that ran deep. Instead of pulling away or changing the subject like he would, though, Kisame sighed and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the palm Itachi's hand. "My mom died when I ten, so my dad decided it would be best to move back to O'ahu to be with his family," he answered, voice soft, "I moved to the continental states when I joined Seven Swords, back when they were first setting up a _Shippuden_ lineup."

Itachi had no response to that, "Kisame…"

A small, sad smile spread across his face, and Kisame pulled his hand away so he could wrap his arm around his back, pulling him into a one-armed hug, "I'm sorry. That was heavy."

"No, no, I'm glad you're willing to share something like that with me," Itachi twisted around so he was facing him, letting his hand rest over his stomach, "Do you visit your family often?"

"Not as often as I should," Kisame frowned at the thought and lowered his gaze to the hand on his waist, "Just on holidays and birthdays. I don't get a lot of chances, with our schedules and all…"

He bit back a disappointed sigh. He was invited over to help liven the mood, not to drag it down with depressing talk about dead parents and being over a thousand miles away from Kisame's closest family.

Itachi opened his mouth to apologize, but Kisame took a deep breath through his nose and slid his hand over his, squeezing tight, "What about you? Were you born here?"

This wasn't going to be an any more pleasant topic, but something told him that Kisame just wanted the attention shifted off of him for a bit so Itachi nodded, "My parents moved to Ohio from Hokkaido before I was born. They still live in Loveland."

"Yeah? You speak Japanese at all?"

"I can get by in a conversation, but I'm not fluent by any means. I struggle with anything deep, like politics," he shifted a little so he was leaning more into Kisame's chest, the strain on his back becoming a little too much to deal with in his current position, "Reading and writing is much easier."

Kisame's arm tightened around him, holding him close to his chest as Itachi let his head fall to his collar, "So I'm guessing you talk to them in English?" he asked casually.

Itachi stiffened. Not exactly.

"I don't particularly make a habit out of speaking with my family, in general," he answered a little too thickly, unable to keep buried resentment from bubbling to the surface.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he curled his fingers around Itachi's, rubbing the back of his wrist with his thumb.

"It's fine, we just…" Itachi closed his eyes, brow furrowing.

He felt Kisame turn his face downwards to press into his hair, the arm still looped around Itachi's back and arm squeezing briefly, "You don't have to explain just because I told you about my mom," he murmured, "Do things at your own pace."

Itachi released the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding and opened his eyes to gaze at their conjoined hands while the jazzy intro for _Durarara!!_ played in the background, "My father and I simply have… Very differing opinions on a number of issues," he explained, "I was expected to go through an arranged marriage with a nice, quiet Japanese girl in Hakodate named Izumi, so… You can imagine how that turned out when my parents came home to find me making out with a black man on their sofa."

"Racist _and_ homophobic? Christ."

"I wouldn't say they were _racist_ , per se, they just had very… Traditional views on marriage."

Kisame made a small disapproving noise in the back of his throat and stretched one leg out, shifting a little. That was more than enough for Itachi to know exactly how he felt about that statement, not that he could blame him - Itachi only half-believed his own lie when he told it to himself; his family toed the line between ethnocentrism and racism. 

"So what happened then?" he asked a little gruffly. Itachi wondered if he was angry.

"My father struck me once, then provided me with a suitcase, enough money to get by for a few months, and an open plane ticket."

Kisame swore under his breath, leaning his head back against the headboard, "And your mom?"

Itachi slid his hand out to trace the two simple black band tattoos that circled his thick forearm, "Was a very loving, obedient housewife that understood her place." Despite it being the twenty-first century, it seemed that his parents' marriage was still very much frozen in the pre-World War patriarchal mindset.

"That's so fucked up."

"It was five years ago. It happens all the time –"

"That doesn't…" Kisame took a long, deep breath, and released it slowly, "I'm sorry. It just… Really pisses me off to hear about people treating their kids like that.

Guilt spread through Itachi's chest like a pang of heat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

Kisame raised his hand to brush his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear, before cupping his cheek, "Don't apologize."

"You wanted to hang out with me to improve your mood, not bring it back down."

"I wanted to see you, and spend time with you," he pulled his face up so Itachi was forced to lock eyes with him, "I'd rather get to know you than talk about work, or superficial shit that doesn't matter."

Itachi opened his mouth to apologize again, then stopped and settled with staring up at him silently. He allowed himself to get swept up in the intensity of his gaze, which was thoughtful, but not far away or lost-looking, and felt the tension bleed out of his body as he paid extra special attention to each fleck in his irises.

Aquamarine – that was what they looked like. Last time they met he struggled to pinpoint exactly what color Kisame's eyes were, but Itachi realized now that they looked just like two aquamarines outlined by a dark ring of blue. The gemstones, not the Crayola color.

They were so clear, and sharp, and keen, and…

"Itachi…"

Kisame's voice was low, and gruff, and sent tingles up and down Itachi's spine.

"I want to kiss you."

Itachi froze.

"Is that okay?"

His brain short-circuited, and his heart came to a full stop for half of a second. By the time Itachi fully processed what was just asked of him, his stomach felt like it was going to slide out his butt. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how close their faces were, how he was pressed up against Kisame's side, and his anxieties from earlier were rapidly returning.

There was a part of him that wanted to say yes, to be the one to lean in first, but he couldn't help but feel an onslaught of panic at just the idea of it. What if it was bad? What if he was like the men in those trashy romance novels that pushed for an intense makeout session after the first kiss? Would that mean that they were an item? Was he going to be stuck in something that was awful? Oh god, they were still on a _bed_ –

 _"Do things at your own pace."_ For the second time that evening, Kisame's words rang in his head.

Itachi didn't realize he was squeezing Kisame's shirt until his fingers began to ache from the tension.

"Please don't," he whispered.

Disappointment flashed in those outrageously blue eyes, but Kisame only rubbed Itachi's arm and looked back at whatever episode they were on, resting his cheek against the top of his head, "Alright. Is this still okay?"

After a quick pause, Itachi decided that he was still fine with the way that they were so he leaned his head back down to rest on Kisame's broad chest. His arm slid over his stomach to wrap around his waist.

"Thank you."

His head bounced when Kisame chuckled quietly, dropping his hand down from his face to rub rhythmic circles into Itachi's forearm, "You worry too much. Now…" Kisame sighed, "I think we missed like four episodes, so… Can I put on Netflix?"

Itachi snorted and shrugged wordlessly. This evening had been nothing short of an emotional rollercoaster on his end, and now he was too exhausted to bother with explaining the current plot of the long forgotten anime.

It wasn't long before they were halfway through the new season of _Archer_ , laughing and making jokes with each other. Kisame definitely shared the same toilet humor that he was used to experiencing from Shisui, which didn't bother him as much as he thought it might; probably because he didn't take it as far as Hidan did the last time he was over.

With the pizza sitting warm in his stomach, and the much too large pullover sweater was making the rest of him just as warm, and Itachi decided that he would like to spend more evenings like this. There was something relaxing about listening to the steady beat of Kisame's heart; even more so was the fact that his breathing was almost in time with the hand still drawing lazy circles into Itachi's arm.

In the back of his mind he wondered when the last time was that he allowed himself to simply relax and have casual fun like this, outside of Shisui. He honestly couldn't remember.

Itachi turned his face towards Kisame's, which was still watching the screen with subtle amusement. In the back of his mind he wondered if the other man had his face set into a perpetual grin – even when nothing was happening it seemed like the corners of his lips were always turned upwards. Not that he minded.

He liked his smile.

Reaching up, Itachi didn't give himself time to psyche himself out. He pressed his lips against the edge of Kisame's jaw, savoring the way he tasted only just long enough for the other man to make a small surprised sound in the back of his throat.

Itachi quickly turned his head back down to bury it into Kisame's chest, snuggling down into the hoodie to hide the way his cheeks pulled his lips into a bashful grin.

He liked that, too.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Itachi didn't know when he fell asleep but, the next thing he knew, he was lying on his stomach with a heavy arm draped over his waist.

He slowly blinked one eye open, the other still smushed into a pillow that smelled like Kisame. Light was filtering in through the closed blinds, washing the room in cool morning light.

_Shit._

Very, very slowly, as to not jostle Kisame awake, Itachi slipped out from under his arm and glanced over at the clock on the dresser. It was only six-thirty, so there was a good chance that no one else in the house would be awake to bust him so long as he stayed quiet.

Grabbing his phone, keys and wallet, stuffing them into his pockets, he looked back for one last look at Kisame's sleeping figure. His shock of blue hair was a tousled mess from sleep, and he was already pulling the pillow Itachi had been occupying to his chest. There was a dark spot in the fabric beneath his mouth that told him that Kisame drooled in his sleep, and he thought it was cute as hell.

Itachi removed his hair from its bun to comb his fingers through it as he all but tiptoed down the hall. It had become a knotted rats nest from rolling around on the pillow, and from being rained on, and it was refusing to be tamed by natural means. He probably looked like a hot mess in general, though.

Settling on just braiding it off to the side to deal with later, Itachi rounded the corner that would take him to the stairs.

Which was when Deidara nearly smacked into him.

"Susanoo?"

He stood stock-still as if he was a character from Jurassic Park and the blonde was a T Rex that would go away after a few moments of silence.

"What are you doing…" Deidara's eyes narrowed in confusion as he took in Itachi's appearance, "Is that Kisame's?"

Well… He could lie and say no, but then Itachi would probably have to explain why he owned a sweater that was several sizes too large. He could say yes, but then that could lead to more questions.

Something told him that he wouldn't have to answer, because Deidara's mouth nearly fell open in shock and he pulled him away from the center of the hall and through a door that lead to another bedroom – presumably his.

"I thought you two were a little snuggly on the couch," he smirked, "But, _really_ , man?"

Heat flared in Itachi's cheeks from the knowing look he was being given, "Don't be absurd. All we did was watch Netflix, and we ended up falling asleep."

Deidara's grin expanded, "Netflix…"

Oh god.

"And chilled?"

Never had Itachi so desperately wished for some sort of deity to smite him on the spot.

Sensing his growing horror, the blonde only laughed and reached out to pat his arm, "Don't worry about it, man. You wanna keep your midnight rendezvous a secret? Fine by me, but…" Deidara glanced down at his watch, which was when Itachi noticed that he was wearing exercise clothing. Did he come back from a run, or something? "Mom usually wakes up at around seven so you might wanna go, like, soon, and I wanna know what exactly I'm keeping a secret so DM me on Twitter later. Kay?"

Mom? Itachi sighed and pulled out his phone, but not without groaning internally at the series of missed calls and texts messages from his housemates. "What's your handle?"

He needed coffee. And food.

"AkatsukiC4. One word. Yours?" Deidara fished his phone out of his shorts.

"TU underscore Susanoo."

They tapped around on their screens in silence for a couple seconds until they were both followed.

"By the way, what does that even mean? It's Japanese, yeah?"

Itachi didn't look up for his phone as he closed out the Twitter app and opened up Uber. A lot of taxis were beginning to work with the company, so hopefully there were some available at this hour, "The literal English translation is 'He with the ability to help by all means.'"

"That… Is a mouthful," Deidara mumbled, "But it fits a support player, I guess."

Finally looking up from the checkout success page, Itachi shrugged and turned towards the door. Thankfully there was no one else lurking the halls while he made his way towards the door, toeing his – thankfully dry – slip-on sneakers and quietly slipping out onto the porch to wait for his ride. With his phone still in hand he unlocked the screen, opened up the camera and turned on the front-facing feature.

His bangs were still a little frizzy, one side still kind of curled from drying behind his ear, and Itachi looked nothing short of exhausted if the dark circles around his eyes were anything to go by.

He dropped onto the front step and tilted the camera down so that it was only showing the bottom half of his face. Smiling lips were bit between even teeth, and he snapped the picture as he giggled in the back of his throat. God, he looked like such a mess.

Part of his reasoning was to let his team know that he was alive. Part was because he was a cheeky shit that wanted to show off the fact that he nabbed a hoodie from the guy he liked. Without bothering with any filters or lighting edits, just adding a caption, Itachi posted the picture.

_Here goes nothing._


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that Ao3 has a rich text editor. Now I can use proper page breaks.  
> I am so sorry for those ugly-ass dotted lines lmao. I'll get those fixed in earlier chapters.

Itachi hated saying goodbye.

He released Shisui from the fiercely tight hug he was squeezing him in, the lump in his throat that formed four hours ago somehow having the capacity to grow even larger, threatening to leave him suffocated.

"I'll text you when the plane lands, kay?" he winked, taking a step back.

Itachi folded his arms over his chest as if it would fill the distance that was steadily growing between them, "Alright," his voice was hardly louder than a whisper, "Be safe."

The tension in Shisui's face told him that he was just as upset over their separation as Itachi was, but he only flashed the same crooked grin that awarded him with enough fangirls to fill a stadium before abruptly turning about-face to head through the security checkpoint. Itachi's eyes followed him as he moved through the line, paying attention to the subtle movements he made like adjusting the beanie that hid his curly hair, or the way he chatted with an elderly couple that carried a small dog in a small cushioned carrier. He watched the TSA agent scan his ticket before signing it, and he watched Shisui toe off his sneakers to drop them in a bin with his beanie, backpack, and sweater. When Shisui made it through the checkpoint, he turned around and girlishly blew a kiss that only made Itachi laugh for maybe half of a second, if you could even call it a laugh.

He stood there for nearly half an hour after he walked around the corner to go find his terminal, as if staring at the end of the checkpoint would somehow bring his best friend back. Itachi's stomach felt sickly hollow, and his throat was so tight that he could hardly breathe. It wasn't until his his shoulders twitched that he realized that he had begun to cry.

Dammit.

Itachi wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand and turned on his heel to start the trek back to regroup with the rest of his team. They had given the two of them time to be alone, given their close friendship, and were all huddled around a small table that was near a Starbucks kiosk.

Sasuke looked up from his coffee – black, of course – with a particularly glum expression that broke Itachi's heart.

Poor kid.

"Alright, let's head out," Obito grabbed his latte and scooted his chair back, motioning for the other two to follow. Madara refused to see Shisui off, saying he had work to attend to, so it was just Sasuke and Baru that followed their coach through the airport lobby area.

There was something soft being nudged into his hand. When Itachi looked down, confusion poking through the profound sadness that made his body feel heavy and move like molasses, he saw a little white package being placed in his palm. Sasuke's cheeks were tinged pink, and he kept his gaze on the floor as Itachi took the small packet of tissues that were being offered. There was a note taped to the plastic wrapping.

_Sorry for yelling._

Itachi tucked the note into his front pocket before tearing open the packaging. He nudged Sasuke with his wrist, handing him one of the tissues, which he pouted at for a couple of seconds before snatching it out of his hand to dab at his running nose begrudgingly, like he didn't want to admit that he was already missing Shisui almost as much as Itachi was.

Itachi followed suit, ruffling the teenager's hair as they pretended like they weren't close to crying.

* * *

"I expected you would be more excited for this," Madara noted, breaking the silence that filled the room.

Itachi didn't look up from the line he was scrawling his name over.

"Even you have to admit that this was poor timing," Obito murmured from where he was sitting in a corner.

As it turned out, the business that the Team Uchiha manager had to take care of was the finalization of his transfer to Akatsuki eSports, and it was only a few hours after Shisui's flight took off that the three of them left the house to meet with Nagato and Konan with their respective CEOs, Izuna and Kakuzu, in the Akatsuki CEO's office. The next couple of hours were spent explaining the contract's details to him with all necessary parties present.

And, well, damn if it wasn't a favorable contract. On top of the Minimum Player Compensation of $13,000 for the four-month season that was mandated by the publishers of Shippuden, the organization would provide a base salary of $9,000 per season that had the potential to increase if he were to renew his contract for later splits, and if he proves himself to be worth the extra cash to keep him with them. This didn't take into account any tournament winnings, which were sectioned off rather fairly. He was also allowed to stream to his own Twitch channel and collect whatever income he made off of subscriptions and donations so long as he streamed to the official team channel at least once a week on a set schedule that rotated between the team members.

A lot of the terms were pretty basic, too. He would be expected to live with the rest of the team in the house located in Daybreak Creek, would meet with a psychologist paid for by the organization once a month, the manager would take care of lodging and travel for events, training was Monday through Friday from eight in the morning until six at night, blah, blah, blah…

Itachi frowned as he signed another page, "I still don't understand why you insist that we visit the gym three times a week…"

"You can thank Kisame for that one," Konan poured herself a glass of water from the refresher tray in the corner of the office, "He insisted that the organization put a focus on the health of its players by providing gym memberships, and making sure that the players used them."

"It is a growing occurrence now that the industry is beginning to understand the toll that professional gaming puts on your body," Madara explained with detached amusement at the irritation on Itachi's face, "You of all people should be aware of that, with the way you incessantly pop pills to keep your back pains manageable."

Konan made a small sympathetic noise as she reclaimed her seat next to Nagato on a rather uncomfortable-looking leather bench, "You should get that looked at, if it's gotten that bad," she sipped her water, "You know, Kisame actually used to work in physical therapy. If anything, you could let him work on you if you don't want to see a pro like a chiropractor. He does wonders for my arms and hands..." As if to prove her point, she used her free hand to rub at the top of her forearm, which no doubt ached from hours of paperwork.

Itachi made a face. He didn't particularly want to be touched by complete strangers, especially not shirtless. Did chiropractors require you to be shirtless? Or was that just massage therapists?

He looked back down at the line he was initialing. Jesus Christ this was a process and a half. Was the person that wrote up this contract paid by the hour?

"Do you have any other questions?" Kakuzu asked, his voice like two oily rocks grinding against one another.

"Yeah, what does it mean when you say that Sasori will be recording team life..?"

"In order to provide a sense of community with the Akatsuki fanbase, each team's community manager is tasked with recording weekly videos of life of the players, which includes tournaments and team outings in a documentary-type fashion."

That was… Invasive.

"Honestly, once you get used to it then you won't even notice," Konan chimed in, "Sasori's great at staying out of the way when he's working."

Itachi signed and dated the form, scooting them all back into a neat stack and replacing the square clip at the top to hold them all together. Kakuzu nearly snatched the contract out of his hands to flip through each page and make sure that everything was as it should. After a minute or so of reviewing the documents, which had already been read and signed by the other necessary individuals, he readjusted his tie and stood up from his leather chair, extending a thick, ringed hand.

"Welcome to Akatsuki eSports, Itachi."

* * *

 If there was anything Itachi envied Shisui for, it was the amount of time he was given to pack up and move during his transfer.

He put the last of his books and DVDs into a box and dragged the roll of tape that was hooked to a rolling tape dispenser over the cardboard, twisting the handle so that the sharp razors would cut off the end. It wasn't as if he had a ton of items to pack. Itachi learned pretty quickly that it was best to keep your personal belongings to a minimum, to make sure that packing wouldn't require too much effort when it came for you to leave. Most of his effects were entertainment items that had just been neatly organized into the box he was sliding to sit against the wall, clothing, and a modest assortment of small awards from the game and piano competitions he participated in during his younger years.

So the packing and moving wasn't something that bothered Itachi in itself. It wasn't why he sighed, unfolding the legs he was sitting on so he could sit on the floor and lean against the bed.

He just hated saying goodbye.

Itachi didn't like being with Team Uchiha. There was no chemistry between him and the other teammates, both in the game and during day-to-day life. If it hadn't been for Shisui keeping his wits intact then Itachi would have lost his mind before the end of his six month contract was up.

Looking around his room, though… Maybe he was too much of a sentimental guy but the team house had still been his _home_ for these last few months. He practiced with them – lived with them. No one wanted to leave their home, especially not to leave to go someplace unfamiliar.

On the nightstand, his phone vibrated for what felt like the hundredth time that night. For the last few days Shisui had made it a habit to send him texts nearly on the hour, every hour, on top of sending posts to his social media accounts that Itachi had to turn push notifications off for, lest his battery die by lunch. He knew that Shisui was simply excited and wanted to share that happiness with one of his best friends, but he would be lying if he said that it didn't make his heart ache to be constantly reminded that he was so far away with another organization. It seemed like he was having so much fun... Did he even miss Itachi at all?

Reaching for his phone, he realized that, this time, it wasn't Shisui that messaged him.

_you doing okay?_

That's right, Kisame was still good friends with Haku and Zabuza so of course he would have heard about Shisui moving to New York. That, or he heard it in the news - Shisui's return to _Melee_ definitely would have gotten the attention of ESPN and TheScore.

Itachi snapped a photo of the two cardboard boxes and his packets suitcases. _Of course. I'm excited for tomorrow._

That was a complete lie. In any other scenario he would have been absolutely thrilled, yes, even if his nerves would have been a problem at first. However, with the way things panned out, it was difficult to be excited for what was going to be an exhausting day. Instead of giving him a day to settle in, they were going to whisk him off for an introductory interview for their website and YouTube channel, there was an interview set up with Yahoo! Esports about his transfer, and he had to get his passport renewed.

His phone vibrated, and Kisame clearly didn't buy into the fake enthusiasm. _you dont post on social media when youre upset_

Itachi opened up his Twitter to see when the last time he posted was, which happened to be a photo on Instagram of the entire Uchiha team during their farewell dinner.

_How do you know that?_

_i followed you when thescore did a piece on you when you were a part of leaf academy._

Hah. Itachi remembered that. It was the first time anyone wrote about him, other than Gosu writing an article when the team was formed, which was quickly swept under the rug. The editorial was written after his team won the first premier-level tournament they ever attended, and it was about him and Shisui being genius rookies. Basically, it was a piece on a performance that was totally blown out of proportion.

_whenever you lose a tournament or a teammate posts vague negative shit you drop off the radar_

Well... He wasn't wrong.

_I like to sulk in solitude._

_theres nothing wrong with wanting to be alone. i was pretty bummed after ss fell apart and zabuza and haku moved away. took a break and went home to visit family for a few weeks._

_Do you have a big family?_

_racist implications aside?_

Itachi rolled his eyes at his words being thrown back at him.

_yes. 4 brothers 3 sisters 3 nieces 2 nephews and a fuckton of cousins and aunts and uncles._

Dear god that was a lot of childbirth...

Despite imagining the horrors of just how much labor that must have entailed, he found himself smiling at the vision that came to mind. He imagined Kisame being surrounded by a large group of people that all shared that happy lopsided grin, with eyes that shined with the same mirth. They probably all had big family dinners, too, that they cooked together, and they hung out in the living room after cleaning the dishes to watch television together and just talk about anything going on.

It was probably happy and full of love...

Thinking about it too long reminded Itachi how lonely his own home life had been. The warm feeling soon turned to envy, which morphed into a profound sadness.

The things he would do just to be able to have even a _taste_ of that.

Itachi's phone vibrated.

He ignored it.

* * *

 "I was seventeen when I was first introduced to _Shippuden_. I actually didn't enjoy it at first, but my friend at the time wanted to play with someone he knew, and he usually got his way so I let him bully me into playing."

Itachi tried to not squint against the collection of lights that were shining on him from nearly every direction, which were beginning to feel like they were baking him alive from where he was perched on a stool in front of a green screen. They really go all out with this stuff, didn't they?

"Why did you decide to take it to a competitive level?"

He cracked a grin, "I was bullied into it by the same kid."

Off to the side, Konan grinned and whispered something to Nagato.

It wasn't so much that Shisui legitimately bullied him, but he definitely made a point to continuously remind Itachi how better off he would be if they joined Leaf Academy together to kick start a career in competitive gaming. It was mostly a joke between the two that alluded to a much darker story, if nothing else.

"Out of the time you've spent with the team, how does Akatsuki compare to Team Uchiha?"

Thanks to trying to remain upright in a position, the pain in Itachi's back was beginning to sidle its way into the focus of his attention, and he tried not to grimace. "If we're completely honest, I don't think I have the right to start making comparisons after only two sessions with the team," he admitted, "However... I feel like the very first thing I noticed was how they keep focused on the game during practice, and there's a chemistry that I never felt with Team Uchiha. I feel like I'm back on a genuine team, and not just a group of individual players that share a house."

Nagato's and Konan's lips both stretched into pleased smiles.

The interviewer adjusted her glasses and nodded, glancing back down at his clipboard, "Is that why you made the decision to part ways with Team Uchiha? Because they lacked teamwork?"

"I have no intention to speak ill of my former teammates," Itachi responded, "But I will admit that there were a number of issues that the team needed to overcome if they were ever going to reach its full potential, and I wasn't sure if that was possible with the way things were heading. That's not to say that they are not skilled individuals, though. Prophecy, in particular, is exceptionally talented and I am excited to see how he evolves in the future."

With the rather stiff look on the interviewer's face, and the almost startled expression that Nagato wore, Itachi realized just how sharp his tone was in his response. It wasn't as if he intended to come off as irritated, he just didn't like being hot. Or in pain. And, currently, he was in both.

He mumbled his apologies and resisted the urge to start rubbing at the ache uselessly as sweat began to bead along his brow.

"So, do you think you will have time to fully prepare for the upcoming qualifier for the major in Stockholm?"

He tried not to make a face, aware of the camera still aimed at him, "I can't say if I will be ready, as an individual," he admitted, eyes glancing down to the hands resting in his lap, "I am not so proud that I am unable to admit that I've become somewhat rusty since my days in Mangekyo and Anbu. The only thing I can say is that, even if I falter at first…" Itachi lifted his head back up to make eye contact with the rest of the team, his gaze lingering on Kisame, "I feel like I can trust them to help me back up. So... I feel like we'll be ready. As a team."

Deidara's and Konan's expressions curled inwards, and they both whispered, "Awww" nearly in sync. Hidan just huffed and looked away, and Kisame folded his arms over his chest, lifting one hand to rub the bottom half of his face; he offered a gentle smile in response.

The interview continued on like that for a few more minutes. It was mostly filled with generic questions that told Itachi that he was still new to interviewing, but Nagato said that the responses he gave were more than suited for the introductory video that would be posted to the website in a couple of days. There was no doubt in Itachi's mind that Kisame was the one that convinced their manager to merge the two together to just give him a short break, which he was more than thankful for as he gingerly climbed off of the stool for the photo portion.

They moved about the small set as they were directed, changing poses and rearranging their positions as Sasori saw fit. It was interesting how seriously they took this, considering only one solo photo would be used for each profile, and only one would be used of the team in the group photo of the site, but it seemed that Sasori was intent on getting the perfect shot as he snapped a few shots before rushing over to nudge at someone. At least he was dedicated. He had to give him that much, even if having to hold poses over the course of fifteen minutes was doing no favors for his back. The pain was beginning to get to the point where it was impossible to not be constantly aware of it, which was when he would normally ask Shisui for one of his Vicodin pills, and it probably wouldn't be long until the muscle started spasming.

Thankfully it wasn't too much longer when they were finished with group shots and Itachi was given the opportunity to make like a bandit out of the room so he could find a place to lie down. The team needed photos of their new jerseys, as they picked up a couple of new sponsors and had a whole new design created, so no one followed him as he exited the studio that the organization was renting to find the makeup artists' area. It was a small room, and the artist already packed up his things and left since their makeup was literally just some BB cream and setting powder, so Itachi was lucky enough to find the space unoccupied as he shed his team jacket and dropped into the couch with a small groan.

Maybe he really should listen to Konan and see a chiropractor about this… It wasn't like he didn't have the money – he still had some leisure money left over from saving up after blowing most of what he had on his hospital bill – so why was he constantly putting this off? Itachi had done enough research to know that they worked through clothing, so he wouldn't have to worry about that, either.

Well, then again, most of it was focused on spinal manipulation so it would probably just be a waste of time…

By the time he managed to pop what was probably three times the normal dosage of acetaminophen into his mouth with a shaking hand, the door clicked open.

"Your back?" Kisame's voice was low as he stepped into the dimly-lit room.

Itachi would have sworn under his breath if it wouldn't require him to take a breath that would jostle an already furious muscle knot.

Crap.

Thankfully, it seemed that Kisame took his silence as an answer. He moved Konan's purse to the side so he could kneel next to the sofa, "Can you get onto the floor?"

Double crap.

Itachi's initial response was to say no – in fact, it was so instinctual that he opened his mouth to say "I'll be fine, I just need a moment to myself." It was only the sharp, almost electric-like flare that taking a breath resulted in that stopped him; it was intense enough to bring tears to his eyes and make his jaw snap shut, and Itachi knew that he was going to be stuck lying on this couch for at least an hour before he would be able to move again. He would become a burden to the others, who would have to wait for him. Nagato might consider him to be a liability – what if he got like this during a tournament? Itachi didn't want the others to know just how bad things could get. Not when he was still this new.

He hated this. Itachi wanted to just handle this on his own, like he always did with any of his other problems. Relying on others wasn't something he did. He dealt with his loneliness on his own. He suppressed his insecurities without the help from others.

Even if it was what resulted in Itachi spending four days in a hospital.

It wasn't until Kisame brushed away a tear track running into his hairline that he realized that he was crying – whether from the pain or his own frustrations, he wasn't sure.

Clearly this wasn't working.

Itachi started to move to prove himself up on his elbows, only to feel a searing pain rip through his back and right shoulder that dropped him right back into the cushions that sagged beneath his weight.

"Slow down – don't use the side that hurts," Kisame cooed, brushing his bangs back.

The second attempt, he kept his right arm cradled to his side while using the other to push himself up. There was still an ache, but it wasn't as violent as it was before so Itachi gingerly pushed himself to the edge of the sofa and dropped one leg to the floor. Kisame reached out to help him the rest of the way to lay flat on the rug, which was thankfully soft and not one of those cheap scratchy types.

"Here," he grabbed a pillow from the sofa and slipped it under Itachi's head, "It'll be better with your arms by your sides."

Well… It was a little awkward to have your head in a thin pillow with the rest of your body lying straight, but Itachi was also one of those people that cradled his pillow and stuck one leg out of the sheets at night so maybe that was just his weird laying habits talking.

It was even stranger to have someone else's hands on him, he realized. Other than brief hugs of comfort from Shisui, and that one instance where he hugged Sasuke, Itachi never noticed how his life was so absolutely devoid of human touch as the tips of Kisame's fingers grazed his lower back. It was like a trail of electricity following his fingertips, activating his nerve endings and sending them into an excited frenzy.

"Is it just your shoulder area that's bothering you?" he asked, his touches light and fleeting as he presumably checked for sore spots.

Itachi hummed, "Between my spine and shoulder blade…" he grit his teeth at another flash of pain that came from inhaling, "Is the worst."

Kisame pulled his hair to the side, stroking his fingers through the ponytail with one hand still on the small of his back, "Alright. I'm gonna start here and work my way up to where it's sore. Is that okay?"

He hummed again, unwilling to fan the pit of fire in his back by speaking.

There were a lot of things in life that you weren't made aware of until some sort of outside force _made_ you aware of them. In Itachi's case, the feeling of Kisame's fingers gently massaging the strip of muscle along his spine was what made him aware of how stiff his entire back was, as opposed to him focusing on the soreness in his shoulder area. It was like someone turned his senses back on, then dialed them up to eleven as a little more pressure was added and Kisame's hands slid over his back to the curve of his waist. It felt so _good_...

So why was his stomach churning?

"Is this okay?" Kisame murmured when he felt Itachi recoil from his touch, "Is it too much?"

Itachi inhaled deeply through his nose to keep himself grounded, ignoring the agonizing pan that ripped through his upper back. His mind's eye flashed back to their breakfast, to the way he felt when he just wanted to keep sitting in the First Watch parking lot and holding Kisame's hand, and the way that he made him laugh with his bad jokes during _Durarara!!_ while he ate that abominable pizza. Kisame made him feel safe enough to fall asleep next to, without even thinking about it.

This was okay. They were both clothed, the door was still cracked, and there was a group of other people within ear's reach down the hall. The pain and emotional stress were just making him panicky, that's all. Kisame _wasn't_ going to hurt him.

After several seconds of silence, Itachi finally let his body relax and he readjusted his head on the pillow, "I'm okay."

Kisame's hands, which had pulled away, returned to the same spot as before. The touch was a little more gentle than before, as if he were worried about hurting Itachi, and carefully glided along his tired muscles.

"If you need to stop, just speak up and I'll help you back on the couch," he heard Kisame murmur above him, "This is for _you_."

He nodded silently in understanding. There was nothing to worry about.

There was an ache in Itachi's hips he hadn't even been aware of that slowly ebbed away as the muscles in his lower back yielded beneath Kisame's skillful hands, and his eyes slid shut as his body began to finally catch up with his brain. This felt nice. There was a soothing rhythm to the way he worked.

"Is this okay do you want it harder?"

Itachi would have probably blushed at his choice of words if he wasn't busy trying to keep his body from turning to mush, "Mmm…" Okay, mouth. Come on, form words, "L-little more, please."

A tad more pressure was applied to the thumbs that had begun to knead at his spine, and Itachi gave up on trying to maintain a physical form. He could melt into the floor now. He didn't care. All he cared about was how he released a heavy breath he hadn't even been aware that he was holding, as if he was deflating beneath the hands that worked at the series of knots that set up shop in his muscles.

Kisame moved upwards into the edge of the problem area, and Itachi's brain switched off.

Any awkwardness from being touched in an unfamiliar manner flew out the window and was immediately replaced by the soft, warm sensation of Kisame's hands slowly kneading at the tightness the middle of his back through the cloth of his shirt. It was a touch that was tender, but firm, and caused Itachi's muscles to loosen up in a way that was soothing enough for Itachi to groan softly in appreciation. Mentally, he was still acutely aware of every point where they were connected, from the fingertips that worked along the side of his spine to the very edge of Kisame's knee touching his hip, but it was more in a way that was self-trained rather than something he was paying attention to intentionally. Itachi was still able to allow himself to indulge in the gentle treatment and lay his paranoia to rest, even if only momentarily.

"Fuck, Itachi, how can you even _move?_ " Kisame asked in a quiet voice that sounded more incredulous than accusing.

The most he could give in response was another groan. Eloquent.

Several more seconds passed of the other man slowly pushing the tips of his fingers into the stiff muscles, sliding back to certain areas to apply pressure directly over knots that would gradually loosen up and melt away, much to Itachi's relief.

It wasn't until Kisame's hands moved upwards to the epicenter of the problem that he flinched, releasing a surprised, pained whimper at the intense bout of deep-seated soreness that slapped him out of his relaxed state.

Kisame eased up on the pressure to rub slow, gentle, superficial circles around the area, "Is it too much, or just a tender spot?"

"Just sore," Itachi mumbled, voice hoarse, "Sorry."

A short, quiet chuckle filled the silence as he experimentally pressed back into the muscle, "You apologize too much," he murmured, "Is this okay?"

Itachi hummed appreciatively, brow furrowing against the dull pain of his back simultaneously craving and rejecting the way Kisame's fingers were massaging at it. It wasn't a sharp or hot pain, like when he moved too much, so he assumed that this was the kind of normal pain that came with working an especially sore area.

"Breathe, Itachi," Kisame nearly whispered, rolling and kneading the section next to his shoulder blade, "I need you to relax. If it hurts, or you need me to stop, just let me know."

He released a gusty breath and tried to force his body to loosen up, instead of staying tense and fighting against the hands that carefully worked at the primary source of his problems. Without thinking, Itachi brought a hand up to grip the edge of the pillow in an attempt to keep from groaning in protest, though Kisame seemed to take that as a hint to ease up on the pressure as he worked gentle circles into the stiff bone-like knot.

"Kisame... Why do you worry so much about other people?" he finally managed once his body loosened up enough for him to speak.

There was a pause where nothing was said, and the only sounds being made between them came from the soft rustling of Itachi's shirt. He thought that maybe he should apologize and wait until they were a little closer to ask that kind of question again but, as soon as he took a breath to speak, Kisame sighed and moved his hands past the sore spot to move more into his shoulder.

"My mom had alymphocytosis, so she was sick a lot when I was little. Most of my memories are of her being in the hospital, or being stuck in bed and being too sick for us to get near," he explained quietly, "I guess I just... Get nervous and want to make sure the people I care about are okay."

He suddenly felt guilty for asking, as well as for becoming irate during their breakfast.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," one of Kisame's hands reached up to brush away the bangs that had since fallen over Itachi's face before returning to his neck, "Is this alright?"

Quickly turning back into the puddle of mush from earlier, Itachi felt his entire body relax as his brain even barely processed that a question had been asked. He hummed, releasing the pillow from the death grip it had been in.

The thumbs kneading at the curve of his shoulder smoothed down to Itachi's waist, and back up to the nape of his neck, feeling for any missed knots. After a couple of stops to work out some of the smaller points that had been skimmed over earlier, Kisame's hand finally came to rest between his shoulder blades. "Try moving for me."

Itachi experimentally rolled his shoulder, noting how it wasn't anywhere near as stiff as it normally was, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. With a languid stretch, pulling his arms back over his head and dropping them back into his lap, he gave Kisame a sleepy smile as he realized this was the best his back had felt in months.

"There aren't enough words in the English language to express my gratitude, Kisame," he murmured, rolling his neck just because he was free to do so. Itachi dropped back to sit against the sofa with a heavy sigh and stared up at the ceiling. He was about ready for a nap.

He wasn't really sure what kind of response he was expecting from him, but he was used to Kisame always saying something or giving some sort of reaction. When he stayed uncharacteristically silent, Itachi turned his head down from the water-stained ceiling tiles to meet Kisame's gaze. A slow, sheepish smile stretched across his face when he was met with the same impassioned, thoughtful stare that was becoming all-too frequent as Itachi spent more time with him.

"You need to stop looking at me like that," he murmured shyly.

Of course, that only made Kisame's usual grin return to make his eyes crinkle at the edges. That, with the intensity in his gaze, created for, well, an incredibly sexy expression that should only be used in the bedroom with the lights dimmed.

"Looking at you how?"

Oh, god, even his voice had gotten husky.

Itachi's cheeks flushed, "You know what you're doing."

"I really don't," Kisame's shoulders bounced a little with a low chuckle, "I'm just thinking."

"About?" he tilted his head down so that his bangs would cover his flaring cheeks.

Unfortunately for Itachi, Kisame wasn't having any of that and wasted no time in reaching over to tuck his hair back behind his ear, "Rescheduling our date."

Their date..?

That was when Itachi's stomach dropped through his feet and into the floor; he whipped his head up, horrified, "I completely forgot -"

"It's fine," Kisame laughed again, "It's been a busy week."

The date was supposed to be five days ago.

"Kisame..." he sagged into the couch again and ran a hand through his hair, "No... It's not fine. I'm so sorry."

Warm, large hands reached out for his, wrapping around them and tugging them away from his face, "Itachi, why do you insist on making things out to be worse than they are, when I'm not even upset?" Kisame squeezed his fingers, "I said it's fine."

Because if you automatically accept that you ruined a good thing, it made it easier to accept that the other person felt the same way. Itachi was used to being blamed for even the smallest things. He didn't know how to handle someone like Kisame, who was so quick to just let things go.

There was some shuffling outside of the makeup station, and the two dropped each others' hands just a beat before Hidan poked his head around the door to give them a suspicious once-over.

"If you two are done with your powwow, mom wants to get dinner," he said with what Itachi was beginning to think was trademark irritation.

Kisame moved to stand once Hidan disappeared with Konan's purse, but Itachi made a little sound in the back of his throat and grabbed at his forearm to tug him back down. He wasn't ready to face the world yet.

There it was, that boyish grin again. Kisame didn't let himself get pulled back down and, instead, twisted his hand around to grasp Itachi's forearm and pull him to his feet so that they were standing close enough to feel each others' body heat.

Had it been anyone else, he would have sent himself reeling until he stumbled back onto the sofa. Instead, Itachi let himself get pulled into a warm embrace; he relaxed his shoulders and rested his cheek on Kisame's chest with a sigh.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Kisame tilted his head down to press his face into his inky black hair, "Don't worry about it. I didn't really do as good of a job as I'd've liked –"

"No," Itachi snorted, reaching up to curl his hands around his muscled shoulders, "I mean that, too, but I mean for telling me about your mother."

"Oh, that?" Kisame asked as if it were the most casual thing in the world. He tightened his arms to pull Itachi closer, "You don't need to thank me for telling you things, first of all."

He pulled back just enough to turn his face up, "And second?"

"Second of all, it's not too big of a deal for me. My mom isn't as much of a sore spot like she was when I was a teenager." Kisame lowered his arms so that they were wrapped around Itachi's waist, "And, _third_ of all," Itachi snorted at the way he emphasized the word, "The others are waiting on us."

It took a fair amount of self control for him to not pout at the reminder. It wasn't as if Itachi didn't like the rest of the team, he just liked being like this and didn't want it to come to an end just yet.

Clearly sharing his sentiments, Kisame released a low, throaty groan, and tightened his arms around Itachi for one final near-crushing hug, "Fuuuck, this sucks."

Yes, yes it did.

Nagato was waiting for them patiently by the studio entrance by the time they finally broke apart and made their way out of the makeup artist's room. Thankfully he didn't ask any questions when Kisame explained that Itachi had simply lost his phone, and the three of them joined the rest of the group in the parking lot where they were discussing lunch options around Konan's Focus.

"Look, you got to pick Friday's dinner," Sasori grumbled, "Put any more Indian food in me, and you're going to be arrested for manslaughter."

Itachi would have grinned if Kisame didn't suddenly decided to walk around him, the tips of his fingers grazing along his lower back as he did so. It was just a glancing touch, but it was enough to make his breath hitch and his eyes narrow at the back of his dyed blue head.

No idea what he was doing, his _ass_.

"What about pho?"

Hidan sighed and rolled his eyes, running a hand over his hair that Itachi had yet to figure out was naturally grey or not, "What the fuck is it with you and soup, Deidara?"

Blue eyes narrowed and Deidara stuck out his tongue, "Noodle soup is delicious, and my vote is pho, or sushi."

That clearly did not sit any better with him, because Hidan balked and gave Deidara an expression that was both of disbelief and disgust, "Who in their right mind would want to spend their afternoon with raw meat in their mouth?!"

His question hung in the air for all of three seconds before Kisame finally broke through the silence with a fit of laughter. Deidara was soon to follow, dropping his forehead to the roof of the car as he broke down into hysterics.

"You mean just in the Bay Area, or?" Kisame snickered, hardly able to get the words out through the laughter that shook at his shoulders, and the strain was what finally tipped everyone but Hidan over the edge, who all but gaped in horror.

Itachi pressed his fingertips over his lips to suppress his own quiet laughing as Nagato's lips finally quirked upwards.

Deidara lifted his head from the car to wiggle his eyebrows, "It ain't so bad, man! Kinda nice, really, you should give it a whirl!"

Sasori rolled his eyes with a smirk, Konan had to muffle herself with her sleeve, and Kisame absolutely lost it when Hidan turned green at the idea of anything phallic in his mouth.

"Are you fucking me right now?!"

"I _can_ be, but I only do it raw."

Kisame dropped to the asphalt, and Itachi was faintly reminded of the hyenas from The Lion King.

It took another minute of bickering for Konan to finally pull herself together, and many, many more minutes to finally get everyone calmed down enough to get them wrangled into the cars they drove there with. Of course, given the circumstances, Deidara wasn't allowed to ride with Hidan, lest he give the poor man a stroke, which meant that Sasori followed him into the Focus. Kisame was about four times too large to fit into any part of Nagato's black i8, which meant that, much to Itachi's dismay, they were separated and Itachi was stuck riding in the backseat on his own.

He tried to not look too disappointed during the journey as he ignored the scolding Hidan was receiving over some scuffle from the previous night, his eyes traveling over the interior of the vehicle. Now, Itachi would absolutely be the first person to tell you that he knew very little about cars, and most of what he did know usually came from books that mentioned them in passing. However, as he paid attention to the little details, he was pretty sure that this was one of those cars that you had tailored to your specific aesthetic needs. There were red circles with black swirls where the BMW logo would be, and they were on the gear shift and on the headrest of each seat, too. It looked more like a specific crest of sorts than anything else, and Itachi highly doubted that there was enough of a market for an insignia like that for this to be a commercial design.

With that in mind, his pearly black eyes settled on the back of Nagato's head. How much money did this guy get paid to where he could afford this kind of luxury purchase?

Actually… Itachi fished his phone out of his back pocket to open up his banking app. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get a car for himself. He never really needed one up until now, because back in Nevada traffic was so terrible that it simply made more sense to use public transportation, and after getting into the pro scene he and Shisui just sort of shared his car. It wasn't like he ever went socializing without him, anyways.

Well, except for…

He mentally shook himself and huffed. Nope. This was a good day, and Itachi wasn't going to ruin his progress by thinking about that.

If you had enough to buy a car in full, was it better to just pay for it in the spot? Or was it only possible to build credit off of big purchases if you made monthly payments? Itachi honestly had no idea. The only reason he would even have any credit was because he'd had a credit card in his name since his parents kicked him out when he was eighteen. It was something he was always sure to pay off before the deadline, so… He had that going for him, at least.

The gentle rocking of the car stopping was enough to pull Itachi out of his thoughts, and he looked up from his Google search to see that they were parked next to the others in front of a Mexican restaurant that was at the far end of some outdoor shopping mall.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but a chest piece as your first tattoo would be killer," he heard Kisame explain as he clambered out of the backseat.

Sasori frowned, "You went to Tonga for two weeks and came back with _that_ ," he waved his arm with flourish at the tattoo that only just barely poked out past the raised collar of his team jacket, "I'm not a madman – I'd stretch it out over a few sessions."

"I handle it well," Kisame thumped his chest, the grin on his face making it apparent that he was well aware of how awful his Russian accent was, "I have skin like rhino! Very strong!"

If he was about to start making 'In Soviet Russia' jokes, Itachi was going to burn his contract and move back in with Team Uchiha.

Thankfully that seemed to be the end of the conversation, because Sasori only rolled his eyes – let's be real, they all did – and allowed himself to be herded through the door by Konan so they could get seated. When the hostess grabbed a stack of menus after a quick head count, they followed her in a single-file line that snaked through the sea of tables that looked like they were each hand-painted with brightly-colored flowers and cacti.

"I don't want any of you drinking tonight," Konan stated firmly while turning over one of the menu's plastic pages, "Today was a day off, but tomorrow we're back to practicing like normal."

Murmurs of disapproval circled the tables that had been pushed together.

"Not much of a day off," Hidan grumbled. When Konan shot him a look, his frown only deepened and he rolled his eyes.

Itachi was beginning to understand why they called her mom.

* * *

 It was dark out by the time Itachi made his way into the living room. The others were scattered about the room with their eyes either glued to the television set with the exception of Sasori, who was sprawled across the floor and sketching something on a tablet with his laptop in front of him. Konan and Yahiko, the team analyst that had been previously out of town, were snuggled up together under a blanket on the sofa, and even Hidan seemed to be in a good enough mood to grace them with his presence from where he sat on the floor with his back leaning against the couch.

Kisame's eyes flashed when he saw a freshly-showered Itachi round the corner, tugging a bit of the same blanket from last time to the side as a silent message.

"You look so fucking cute," he whispered once he was properly settled into the loveseat.

Itachi's eyes narrowed in confusion, and readjusted the ponytail that was loosely tied beneath his ear. It was difficult to sleep on his back with a normal ponytail digging into his head, and his hair had an annoying habit of getting everywhere when it was loose, so this was the easiest way to wear it for bed.

"What is this?" He kept his head turned towards Kisame so he could hear him. Even with the volume of the television, it was still pretty quiet as the team unwound after a long day of their first official practice together, so he didn't want to risk being too loud.

Kisame scooted in closer so that his lips hovered over the shell of his ear, "No clue, but it's apparently one of Sasori's favorites. I guess it's like _Memoirs of a Geisha_ , if the geisha were all mask makers and sumo wrestlers."

Mask makers? Itachi looked back up at the screen to see a young man sanding down what looked like a ko-omote Noh mask while an older man watched over his shoulder. The cinematography style had a very crisp, clean look to it, and it was based on Japanese culture, so Itachi could see where Kisame found the Memoirs of a Geisha comparison. Though… That was about it.

He frowned and snuggled under the blanket, "This is sad."

"The movie?"

Itachi nodded, "I saw this with Haku when it was showing in theatres," he explained, "The story is a masterpiece, but all of Gail Tsukiyama's and Lisa See's novels have dark undertones and bittersweet conclusions. You have to have a particular mindset to be able to appreciate them to the fullest."

Warmth suddenly enveloped his hand, and he had to take a moment to realize that Kisame had covered it with his own under the blanket.

"You wanna head upstairs and watch something else, then?" he asked, rubbing a thumb over his wrist.

He shook his head and pulled Kisame's hand into his lap, using his free hand to hug his arm to his chest. With the thick knitted blanket pulled up to their necks like it was, there was no way anyone could tell the difference, and Itachi fought the urge to grin when he felt the backs of Kisame's knuckles rub at his thigh.

They sat in a comfortable silence together so they could watch the rest of the movie, which was just as beautiful as Itachi remembered it to be. _Street of a Thousand Blossoms_ was one of his favorite novels to read in high school, so he was more than thrilled when it was adapted into a movie with a high budget, and it had been such a long time since he last had the chance to watch it that he found himself a little too drawn into the emotions of the story.

Every now and then, however, he would peek over at Kisame to see how he was enjoying the film, and each time he would have to force himself to focus on something other than how much he liked the way his sharp bone structure cast shadows over his face that danced as the glow of the television changed. When he wasn't goofing around and making jokes, Kisame looked so… Mature. Calm. Like his mind was always working, and that fierce look in his eye quieted down in a way that, when he finally felt Itachi's gaze on him and turned to meet it, his heart fluttered a little.

Kisame leaned in close enough for his lips to graze the shell of Itachi's ear, and he swore that he could feel them pull into a grin when Itachi's fingers flexed around his in response.

"What're you thinking about?"

He nudged Kisame's face with his nose so he could lean in like he was going to respond, instead brushing his lips just below his tragus piercing. With their faces turned as they were, it just looked like they were whispering to one another out of respect to anyone else watching the movie, and there was a little thrill that ran up and down his spine from their shared, private moment.

It was Kisame's turn for his fingers to twitch reflexively and, when Itachi pulled back, he could see a myriad of emotions pass over his face before he eventually seemed to settle on an amused curiosity.

Itachi held his gaze for another long moment before pulling the blanket back so he could rise to a standing position, nodding in goodnight at Konan when she peered up at him curiously.

The rest of the house was eerily quiet as he padded his way up the stairs. With everyone downstairs enjoying the movie, the only noise came from the sounds of his muffled footsteps against the plush carpet as he turned around the corner that would take him to the hall with his, Kisame's, Sasori's and Hidan's bedrooms.

It seemed that Kisame caught onto his silent message, because it wasn't long before he heard footsteps from the staircase that were too heavy to belong to anyone else but him.

Itachi tried to maintain a normal breathing pace, which was easier said than done. Any time air passed through his lips it sounded a hundred times louder than it actually was, and it only made him nervous as he paused outside his door. Did he go in? Did he wait out in the hall? If he waited in his room would Kisame just presume that he wanted in his pants? Wait, did he _already_ think he was calling him up here for sex?

His stomach flipped at the thought.

Oh god.

This was stupid. This was a dumb idea – why did he put himself in situations like this? Itachi should just go to bed and lock the door like normal so Kisame got the hint, and tell him that he just got the wrong idea, or break things off while it was still early –

Okay, no, that was a train of thought Itachi didn't need to be going down.

He pressed his face into his palms, which were covered by the sleeves of his too-large night shirt, and took a slow, deep breath through his belly. He held it for a few moments, feeling his heart race against his chest, before releasing it just as slowly. Itachi _liked_ Kisame. He liked the way Kisame made him feel. He liked that warm, fluffy feeling that bubbled up in his chest whenever they were together. Even if it was still very, very early in the game, Itachi knew that he didn't want to end whatever they had just on some snap-decision that stemmed from his own personal demons.

"Babe," the sound of Kisame's voice so close maybe Itachi flinch with a noisy gasp in surprise, "Maybe you should just go to bed."

What? Why? He squinted from behind his glasses as if it would help him see Kisame's expression through the near-pitch darkness of the hallway.

"It's been a long day, and if the idea of being alone with me is enough to freak you out to where you don't even notice me next to you…" one of Kisame's thick arms reached out to gently guide Itachi to his chest for a hug, "Then you should probably head to bed before you psyche yourself out too much."

His tone was kind and understanding, if only mildly hurt and a little confused, but Itachi found still himself feeling terrible as he pressed his face into the other man's chest.

Kisame deserved better than someone that was so fucked up that they got spooked by their own shadow. He deserved someone that was as bright and cheerful as he was, and could return the same energy that he was clearly putting into what they were trying to make together. Kisame just... Kisame deserved someone that had their shit together.

It wasn't fair.

Itachi's fingers found themselves idly tracing the outlines of his abs through his shirt while he struggled to find something to say. Something to let Kisame know that it wasn't him that he was afraid of.

"The last guy you dated… Did he…" Itachi could feel his biceps flex as he shifted uncomfortably, "He was a real asshole, wasn't he?"

For a moment, he froze. The specifics of what exactly led to him leaving his former team wasn't something Itachi really wanted to delve into but, at the same time, he felt like Kisame deserved to understand at least the basics of what was going on, even if there was a lilt to his voice that told him that he had already figured some of it out on his own.

After a couple seconds of silence, he slowly nodded, fingers tightening on his shirt, "He was."

Kisame released a heavy sigh. He wordlessly pressed his face into Itachi's hair.

They stood in silence for what felt like forever, which was seemingly a common theme between them. Itachi didn't mind, though. It allowed him to listen to the steady sound of Kisame's heartbeat, and feel the gentle rocking motions of his quiet breathing, which helped him relax against the rather tense subject. There was something comforting about being held like this. It felt warm.

_Safe._

The muscles in his neck and shoulders loosened under Kisame's hold, and he felt him shift to better support him in response. There was something about Kisame that just made Itachi feel almost tranquil. He got nervous, yes, but that was primarily from his own insecurities rising to the surface - it wasn't ever because Kisame had done something wrong, who was usually the talking him down from his own anxious thoughts. And it was that safe, comforting feeling that he gave off that brought Itachi back to Earth, not just pretty words. It was the soothing security that lulled him to sleep in his arms without so much as a thought. If was the unfamiliar sense of trust that Itachi instilled in him that allowed him to relax in the studio the other day.

And it was that silly, lopsided grin and playful eyes that gave Itachi butterflies, and made him smile and laugh even when he didn't want to admit how happy he felt around him, because he didn't know how to make Kisame as happy as he made him. But, god, he wanted to.

Itachi liked Kisame. He liked him a _lot_.

That's why he was okay with these long bouts of silence - because, in that moment, it honestly felt like just having him there with Itachi was the only thing he needed to feel content.

Itachi smoothed his palms up Kisame's firm chest, circling his neck to finally reciprocate the embrace. He turned his face up so that their noses skimmed along one another, and he could feel one of Kisame's arms slide down to hold the small of his back. His breath was hot on his lips thanks to their close proximity; Itachi could feel as much as hear it grow infinitesimally shallower.

Kisame's voice was low, only just barely louder than a whisper, "You'll tell me if…"

His lips pulled into a slow, soft smile, and Itachi stood on his tiptoes to brush the edges of their lips together. "I'll tell you."

The arms around his back and waist tightened, pulling Itachi closer, and Itachi closed what little of a gap there was between their faces, offering his lips in a display of equanimity that he would probably leave his head spinning later. In that moment, though, he simply reveled in the way his chest swelled when Kisame returned the kiss.

They pulled apart just long enough for them to allow the moment to sink in, but it wasn't long before they were leaning in for another chaste peck, then another, and soon their mouths were melding together in a tender, unhurried kiss. One of Itachi's hands snaked up into Kisame's hair, which earned him a quiet sigh of appreciation.

The kiss was long and lush and slow and Itachi felt like his body was going to melt into the floor when the hand fastened around his waist came up to cradle the back of his head so Kisame could deepen it. He hardly even noticed when Kisame's tongue slipped through his lips to trail along the edge of his own, and Itachi's entire body warmed. He tasted sweet and wonderful and was doing very creative things with his tongue that sent tingles down to Itachi's toes.

Itachi was feeling himself unwittingly turn into pliable putty as he reveled in the honeyed warmth of Kisame's mouth, and he wasn't quite sure if he minded or not by the time their lips were back to working together. Kisame's were so full, and he was so gentle…

The soft smacking sounds of their kissing were interrupted all-too soon by the sound of distinct footsteps shuffling down the hall where the stairs were located, and Itachi almost whimpered in protest when Kisame's lips pulled away so he could look over his shoulder.

"I think that's our cue," he whispered, cupping Itachi's face for one more kiss that was eagerly returned.

He sighed unhappily and brought his hands back around to run his fingertips along the tattoos under Kisame's eyes. Most of his attention was still focused on how their bodies were still pressed together, if bent a little awkwardly from the height difference, and how Itachi wanted Kisame's mouth back on his until he couldn't breathe, but the more rational part of his brain reminded him that there was someone making his way up the stairs, and that dragging Kisame into his room so Itachi could kiss every inch of his outrageously handsome face wasn't an option. As tempting as it was.

As if reading his thoughts, Kisame smiled warmly and pressed another kiss to his lips. "Soon."

"After the qualifier," Itachi breathed against his mouth. DreamHack Austin was going to act as a qualifier for the major in Stockholm, and it was only two weeks away. It would be perfect.

"After the qualifier," Kisame agreed, trailing his lips along his cheek, "Sleep tight, baby."

With one final kiss goodnight, the two pulled away, much to Itachi's discontent, and slipped into their respective rooms not a moment too soon, as Sasori rounded the corner with his laptop in hand just a beat later.

When Itachi had locked the knob, dragged the edge of the dresser over the crack of the door, pulled back the fluffy green duvet and tugged off his pajama pants, he slid into the sheets with a heavy sigh. With half of his face buried into his pillow he stared at the wall adjacent to him now that his brain was finally given time to process what had happened.

He hinted at Kisame to follow him so they could be alone. Kisame followed. Kisame indirectly asked about Kakashi. Itachi answered candidly. Itachi kissed Kisame. He kissed him back.

They kissed.

And Itachi _liked_ it.

He pulled the covers up to his neck and slipped an arm under the pillow with another sigh. If he was totally and completely honest with himself, the thought was a little scary. It felt like he was setting himself up for heartbreak again, and Itachi just wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle going through a round two of what Kakashi had put him through when he only just barely made it out of round one with his life.

It wasn't that he thought Kisame would put him through that kind of hell, it was just…

Itachi snuggled into the bed, letting the soothing sensation of new, clean sheets calm him down before his anxiety could continue clambering up his throat. He felt comfortable with Kisame for a reason. This was a good thing, with a good guy, that would be good for him. It was high time that Itachi let go of his fears and let himself be happy, instead of just floating through life in a state of neutral contentment.

He reached one hand out for his phone, which was charging on the nightstand, and opened up his messages with practiced movements, tapping Shisui's thread.

_We kissed. Before you ask, there is no elaborate tale to share. I only wanted to tell you that it happened._

Despite it being almost two in the morning in New York, it wasn't more than twenty seconds later that Itachi's phone was vibrating with a text alert.

_are you ok?_

He smiled tiredly at his friend's concern. _I'm fine. He's very kind, and it was nice._ Itachi paused for a moment. _I made the first move. I'm glad that I did._

_that's good. i want this to work out for you. you need someone kind to deal with your pretentious ass._

Itachi snorted and rolled his eyes. Shisui really knew how to make you feel special.

_really though, i'm happy for you. you deserve someone to help you find that kind of happiness and this is a big thing for you. just don't push yourself and try to take things faster than you're cool with, ok? haku says he's a good guy but that doesn't mean you need to move at his pace._

His smile turned soft. He didn't deserve a friend like Shisui, he really didn't.

Then again, Itachi wasn't honestly sure if he deserved Kisame, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A major is a premier-level event, usually acting as a qualifier for the world championship.


	7. Chapter 6

Itachi woke up to the sound of his phone performing a very loud tap dancing number on nightstand.

Without lifting his head from the pillow his head was buried in, he reached up with a muffled groan that did nothing to express the levels of discontent he felt over being woken up at – he checked the time – six-thirty in the goddamn morning.

Itachi had half of a mind to just lob his cell across the room as he snatched the infernal thing from where it was making an attempt at smashing through the nightstand. Why was it vibrating so _loudly_?

"Hullo," he mumbled breathily.

_"You're sleeping."_

Correction: He _had_ been sleeping. Itachi's eyes slid shut and he snuggled back into the warmth of his covers. He was pretty sure that the duvet was one of those down-filled ones and, as much as he felt bad for the little duckies, holy shit it was like he was sleeping under a cloud. "Sas'k?"

_"Yeah."_ He sounded uncomfortable.

"You mkay?"

A pause.

_"Yeah, I just…"_

Alright. Something was definitely up. Itachi sighed heavily and pushed himself onto his elbows, which was nothing short of an astonishing display of willpower, in order to separate himself from the pillow and wake himself up enough for conversation. "Sasuke, what's troubling you?"

_"I just wanted to know… If you were doing alright."_

Itachi blinked, "What? Why?"

Sasuke huffed on the other end of the line, and he could almost see him sitting in his room, hunched over his desk with that childish pout etched into his features. _"When you moved into the Uchiha house you had trouble sleeping. I wanted to see if you were… You know."_

Understanding finally set in, and a fond smile spread across Itachi's face, "I've been sleeping well, Sasuke, thank you."

It wasn't a total lie, he told himself as his bleary eyes drifted over to the dresser that was still parked in front of his door like an apocalypse-style barricade. So long as there was the assurance that there was absolutely no chance of unwanted visitors in the middle of the night, then Itachi slept like a baby – and acted like one when he was woken up before he deemed himself ready. Sasuke didn't need to know the requirements that needed to be met for him to maintain a healthy sleeping schedule.

Dead air filled the line.

"Sasuke?"

_"Do you like festivals?"_

Um, okay, that totally was _not_ relevant to what they were just talking about in the slightest, but, sure. "I've been to a few in the past, but it truthfully depends on what kind of festival you're talking about."

_"There's a cultural festival that's sponsored by some colleges in the area,"_ Sasuke explained stiffly, _"It's mostly run by Asian Studies majors."_

Oh, that didn't sound too bad. For a moment, Itachi had been worrying that he was about to be invited to some sort of film or music festival, two things that he had incredibly unpleasant experiences with thanks to Shisui. Itachi would have still said yes, but only because he would have felt obligated to attend just because of how Sasuke sounded like he was going to suffer a massive stroke from simply inviting him out. An Asian cultural festival sounded nice, though.

He glanced at the clock, which read 6:45, and woefully decided that there was going to be no extra sleep in his morning forecast, so Itachi threw back the covers to make himself full wake up. "When is it?" he asked, frowning at the way the comparatively cold air rushed to meet his naked legs. If heat rose, and he was on the second floor, then Itachi really didn't want to go downstairs to see what kind of subarctic climate would be there to greet him; someone must have given Kisame access to the thermostat again.

_"Saturday."_

Itachi frowned, "As in, next week?"

Sasuke huffed _, "Look, if you don't wanna go –"_

"Sasuke, I would love to go," he cut him off with a voice a voice that did little to betray his exasperation. "My only concern is that we have a half-day of practice in preparation for the upcoming qualifier, so I'll be unavailable until after one."

_"Oh."_

"Yeah."

_"That's fine."_

Silence.

_"So I'll text you the address?"_

"Alright, I'll talk to you later."

Itachi almost felt guilty for how relieved he felt when they ended the call. The poor kid didn't have any friends, and he knew that there was probably a reason as to why he was so callous, but that didn't make dealing with his attitude much easier when he was so quick to fly off the handle. If this what it was like for someone to deal with Itachi's outbursts, he would have to buy Kisame a consolation gift.

He set his phone back on the pillow and swung his legs over the bed to prepare himself to finally leave it. After a second, though, Itachi lazily dropped back into the mattress with a heavy sigh and curled up into a ball, right in the center of the bed.

Nope. Not ready for the world, yet.

Just as the bed sheet had just begun to finally hug his body just right, and _just_ as sleep tugged at his eyelids, there was a knock at the door that jerked his senses back to the world of the living.

It took literally every ounce of willpower Itachi had to not groan as loudly, angrily, and as obnoxiously as he could manage. They would tell tales of the wrath of the man that simply wanted sleep – of the man whose angered cries shook all of southwestern California to the point where it finally detached at the fault line and floated away to join the Pacific Islands.

Another knock told him that he should probably stop imagining himself as Godzilla and drag his butt out of bed.

As heavy as the dresser in his room was, you'd think that Itachi would have muscle definition that rivaled Kisame's as he dragged it away from the door so he could unlock it.

"Good morning," Konan smiled pleasantly when the door finally opened, "Were you still asleep?"

"I was woken up by a phone call a few minutes ago."

Her eyes, which were the most peculiar shade of persimmon, gave Itachi a once-over that reminded him that he had yet to put on pants and was standing in front of his coach in an over-sized pajama shirt and trunks. "I just wanted to let you know that Kisame's finished making breakfast, so whenever you're ready, you're welcome to join us."

That was one thing Itachi liked about Akatsuki so far – they ate meals _together_ , like a family would. Hell, the fact that they spent time with each other at _all_ outside of gaming was a pleasant change in pace. But, every morning and evening, the entire team sat around a table and shared a meal, even if it was sometimes mostly eaten in an amicable silence.

He wasn't, however, always thrilled with Kisame's cooking decisions. After a perfunctory shower, Itachi strolled past the busy dining table where Sasori was hovering with a very expensive-looking camera, into the kitchen to see a stack of pancakes resting next to some colorful-looking egg white omelets on the kitchen island. There was also a half-full pot of coffee, the regular assortment of creamers, and a bowl of whole fruits.

The pancakes, though… He knew those were going to be dangerous.

Itachi rounded the kitchen counter and carefully eyed the stack like a dog would eye unfamiliar poop in his yard, making his way towards the cabinet with the coffee mugs.

Kisame didn't like pancakes – Itachi still very much remembered the way his voice sounded when he referred to them as nothing more than fried batter, and since then he has made his opinion known on other foods that were, for all intents and purposes, considered to be empty calories. The fact that there were pancakes on that counter, and that they were made by Kisame, told Itachi that they weren't the fluffy goodness that he was used to.

From the dining table, he heard Deidara laugh, "Dude, you look like a TSA agent that just found an unmarked bag in the terminal."

Deidara did not share his opinions on Kisame's cooking.

Sure enough, there was a strange texture just in the way that the pancakes _looked_ that told him that they were worthy of suspicion. They were a normal color, save the red bits that looked like they were fruit, but they looked like they were made with… Fish eggs, or something just as equally revolting in the current context.

Itachi frowned as he poured his coffee, "Kisame… What, pray tell, have you created?"

"Pancakes!" he responded cheerily with a grin that was way too toothy for him to not be aware of what was actually being asked.

Itachi was in no mood for playing his game, however, and paused in grabbing the sugar to deadpan in his direction.

"Relax, it's just quinoa, instead of a floury batter," Kisame gave him a sheepish grin as he nodded at the stack, "You'll like it, I promise! It tastes just like a normal pancake."

He opened his mouth to remind him of the travesty that was his pizza, but decided it wasn't worth the effort and, after staring at the offending food for a very long time, Itachi grabbed a fork to saw one of the medallions in half and slide it onto his plate. He also grabbed half of an omelet and finished preparing his coffee before joining everyone else at the table.

"You're braver than _I_ am," Nagato murmured into his raised mug, earning himself a sharp look from Konan.

"Nagato, as often as you get sick, you would do well to follow his example," she said chidingly as her fork speared an apple slice. Konan also happened to favor Kisame's bizarre health-food cooking techniques.

Hidan rolled his eyes and scooped up a spoonful of cereal, which Itachi was not aware of being an option and was suddenly irate for not being able to join him in eating Froot Loops with marshmallows, "He probably gets sick because you're always nagging him."

"I do not nag."

Sasori snickered from behind the camera.

"I do _not_!" Konan turned her gaze to Itachi, who froze mid-pancake-cutting, "Itachi, I don't nag, right?"

Oh _hell_ no – that was _not_ fair. Itachi was still too new to the team to safely make a joke about how _maybe_ their coach made a habit of… Unnecessarily getting on their cases when her opinion wasn't exactly asked for. Returning her gaze like a deer in headlights, he raised a syrupy forkful of the mysterious pancake to his mouth and blinked owlishly.

Okay, he definitely had every right to be suspicious about the food.

Itachi groaned around the mouthful, which was every bit as unpleasant and bizarre as he assumed it would be as he unwillingly chewed through the texture of what felt like chewy seeds with not-so-chewy parts and what the actual hell was this fruit? He thought, by the color, it would be strawberry but it was sharp and tangy and good lord there was orange in this, too.

"Kisame, _why_?" he whined after swallowing, reaching for his coffee like one would reach for water after spending seven days in the Sahara, "Why do you _do_ this?"

The man in question grinned sheepishly as he shoveled nearly a whole "pancake" in his mouth, "What?"

"Don't you "what" me," Itachi jabbed a fork in his direction, "I trust you _once_ at –"

He froze, and Kisame's smile faltered. Mentioning their secret breakfast in any form would absolutely be a bad idea, but now all eyes were on him and he was at a complete loss for words as his mind desperately worked to find a way to finish his sentence without incriminating the two of them.

Thankfully, Deidara's mind was working much faster than his, and he swooped in like an angel to save the day.

"It was called Mi Casa," he said without missing a beat, "The Mexican place we went to last week where Kisame shared his burrito with us?"

"Thank you," Itachi turned towards the blonde and used every cell in his brain to transmit very thankful brain waves to his knight in armor that glistened like a disco ball. He _hadn't_ actually eaten any of his burrito, because it was smothered in salsa that was red enough to tell Itachi that he would wind up in the hospital if he so much as sniffed it, but it seemed that no one recalled the exact details of the moment because they all went back to focusing on finishing their food.

He finished his food in food in silence, though he narrowed his eyes at Kisame every time he caught him watching him eat whatever perversion of the pancake form was sitting on his plate. After a few bites Itachi realized that the fruits were orange and cranberry, which were _just_ sweet enough for him to look past the fact that the texture of quinoa made for a very uncomfortable experience.

They all chucked their dishes in the sink for whoever was in charge of dishes that day to take care of, grabbed more coffee, and made their way into the practice room. The station he sat in during his tryouts actually belonged to Kyusuke, so Itachi took his now-usual place between Hidan and Konan. He tried to not pay attention to Sasori as he walked foot-over-foot around their stations.

Deidara clearly had no problems with paying the camera no mind. "Man, I love scrimming, and all, but does anyone else get nervous with Fire?"

Itachi's expression curled inwards as the _Shippuden_ menu opened up, "I forgot how aggressive Lee is. I feel like I'm being _bullied_." Lee had a very annoying habit of chasing him down on the map to take him out.

"Ever listen in on their chats?" Hidan asked, flipping through the menu.

Konan's head whipped around from where she was setting up her spectator screen, "Oh my god, _yes_! They get so intense!"

"Isn't it fucking crazy?" he agreed, "Naruto was streaming one of their practice sessions to Twitch and it'd've been funny if it wasn't kinda sad, too."

Kisame laughed, "Well look who's coaching them – have you _met_ Guy?!"

Itachi grimaced. Yes. Yes he had. An avid kick boxing fan, Kakashi regularly trained with his best friend at the gym that their teams attended. One day, he was somehow convinced to jump into the ring and, well, he didn't remember much, but he remembered having to stay up all night thanks to getting kicked in the head.

"Sakura isn't any better – I tried flirting with her at PAX and the bitch decked me so hard, they almost called an ambulance." Hidan rubbed his cheek at the reminder.

"Guys," Deidara's head popped up over his monitors, "What if they're called Will of Fire _because_ they're emotional?"

Itachi snorted, pulling his headset up to hang around his neck, "I hardly doubt that they are self-aware enough to use that kind of irony." A thought occurred to him, and he eyeballed the camera that was hovering over Kyusuke's head, "How much trouble are we going to get in when you post this?"

"Don't worry about it," Sasori shrugged, camera bouncing with the movement.

"Naruto'll probably just lob memes at us for a week," Kisame didn't look up from the lobby he was creating on the screen in front of him, "I swear that kid's got an entire fuckin' hard drive dedicated to that shit."

But… Wasn't there a level of professionalism that needed to be maintained? Itachi looked over at Konan for some sort of reassurance, who offered another warm smile and said, "At the end of the day, they know that we still respect them as players. That's what matters."

He wondered if that applied to Hidan as he joined the group lobby and pulled his headset up to cover his ears. To say that their DPS was callous was an extreme understatement, and it was obvious that his attitude got under the skin of everyone in the house. Was he around because he respected them, or because they respected him?

_"So I heard you now have Susanoo on your roster,"_ a familiar voice chirped, _"That is so exciting! It is like you now have an all-star team!"_

Yahoo! just published the announcement, which included his interview, a couple of days ago, and Akatsuki's official YouTube posted the introduction video yesterday, so the internet and news outlets were still buzzing about the "Prodigy's return" as if Itachi was some sort of child genius that ran away from home for a few months.

Ridiculous.

_"Who cares?! I'm still gonna kick his ass!"_

Hidan groaned, "Can we just shut up and play?"

_"Yeah, Naruto, it's too early for that,"_ an unfamiliar voice sighed. It was a girl's voice, but it was cool and soft. Didn't they just pick up a new player, too? Itachi's eyes scanned the lobby's player list to try to pinpoint who the new team member was. _Kitsune, Springtime, Blossom… Tenten_?

Huh, that was surprising. Most pro players picked out a name for themselves once they joined the scene, but Itachi was pretty sure that was her actual real name. Though he had no idea what her last name was.

"I kinda wanna start with King as a warm up, is that cool with you guys?" Kisame asked as he cycled through game types.

Itachi smiled a little to himself. King of the Hill was his favorite match type in every game he's ever played that had it as an option. He already felt a little more awake when everyone agreed to it being a good way to kick off the day, despite not having touched his rapidly-cooling coffee since sitting down.

This was starting off to be an okay day.

* * *

 

Kisame really knew what he was talking about when he said that the bar he wanted to go to had a lovely atmosphere.

The Stray Sheep was a small jazz bar located not too far from the beach. There was an unoccupied piano off to the side near the bar, which was stocked full of nearly every liquor imaginable, and made for a rather colorful display with the way the lighting was set up, a small handful of booths, dim lighting, and a somewhat enclosed area for private parties.

Itachi and Kisame were seated in an intimate two-person booth by a young man with a demeanor that reminded Itachi a lot of Sasuke as he informed them of the night's menu options.

"How did you find this place?" Itachi's eyes scanned the room curiously once he walked off.

"I used to surf a lot with Zabuza, Mangetsu and Suigetsu, and when we were done we liked to check out different bars," he explained, "Though, we all sorta decided that this one wasn't really our scene."

Itachi hummed. He could definitely see how this might not pique the interest of four young men, given the atmosphere of the place; this was really more for couples and business partners, it seemed. "You surf?"

Kisame's face cracked into a grin, "I love it. Most of the guys from Seven Swords were Islanders, too, so we were out in the water, like, every fucking weekend. But, honestly, just being in the ocean makes me happy. Especially when I go back home."

There was a rare fondness to Kisame's voice as he started talking about going out swimming or surfing with his siblings and old high school friends, and Itachi found himself smiling despite himself as he listened.

"The best is when the fish actually come up to swim around you. Most of them will go hide in the rocks because they think you're a predator, but sometimes one of the bigger ones will follow you around like a puppy," his blue eyes practically flashed, "It's like fuckin' magic, Itachi."

That actually sounded mildly terrifying, but he wasn't about to ruin his date's fun with his fears of big fish stalking him because they wanted to take an arm. Instead, Itachi leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table. "I thought Hawaii was instating laws against swimming with fish, though?"

Kisame made a face, "The government wants to start regulating dolphin swimming, yeah. People don't realize that dolphins swim to shore to rest, so then all these tourists and guides start crowding them while they're sleeping. People are trying to fix that."

"They wake them up?"

"They don't even realize they're _asleep_ , because they only shut off half their brains when they rest. So even though the guides know how to spot a sleeping pod, it's like they just don't give a shit and let the tourists wake them all up so they have stories to tell their fucking coworkers when they get back from vacation," Kisame paused long enough to take a sip of beer, "So if they aren't being forced to migrate, which puts them in danger, they're not getting enough rest to function properly."

Itachi frowned, both because it was a sad story to hear, and because it was obvious that the man sitting across from him had suddenly lost that excited glimmer in his eye. "That's awful…"

"And the same thing's happening to the reefs, too," Kisame sat back in the booth with his arms folded over his broad chest, "Tourists just see coral as colorful rocks that're pretty to look at. They don't take into account that they're living things that make up these complex ecosystems. If snorkelers and rookie divers aren't breaking the coral apart, shitty anchoring and groundings are literally smashing it to pieces," his frown deepened and the muscle over his jaw flexed with his growing frustration, "That, or the tourists end up scaring the fish _away_ – so they're either having their homes destroyed, or they're being chased out. Like, fuck, it's not bad enough that the Lionfish are chewing through literally miles of it at a time, but humans have been rampaging around in the last ten years, and conservationists have no idea how to save it because no one fuckin' _listens_ , you know?"

Itachi knew that he wasn't being attacked – it wasn't as if he'd ever been to Hawaii in the first place – but he couldn't help but shrink back a little in his seat. There was enough vexation emanating off of Kisame for him to practically see it glowing around him like an aura, which made him feel bad for having brought up the swimming law in the first place.

The trepidation must have shown on his face, though, because Kisame eased up in his seat and offered an embarrassed smile, "Sorry. I get a little heated."

"No," Itachi shook his head, "I think it's wonderful that you have something to be passionate about." To be fair, he was beginning to understand just how little he knew about Kisame, which was something that bothered him on multiple levels. Being able to have him open up like this, as uncomfortable as it may make him at first, was something that Itachi was realizing delighted him to his core.

"Well, I sorta have to be," Kisame took another sip of his beer, "The Islands are my home. If I don't care, why should anyone else?"

Itachi smiled and held his chin in his palm, "That's a valid point."

The somber-looking boy came back for their orders, so they took a break from the tourism v. nature lesson. Kisame ordered an appetizer of bruschetta – which Itachi had to say, he was surprised by the lack of actual typical bar food – and some sort of salmon with mango salsa. Itachi stuck to something safe and simple, a house salad, which Kisame proceeded to eyeball him for as the waiter walked away.

"I'm a picky eater," he shrugged, "I'd rather just stick to my safe foods."

Kisame's subsequent hum told him that he was a little suspicious, but didn't argue and instead chose to return to their previous topic on family, "I forgot to ask when we were talking about it, but you said you have family in Japan?"

"Mostly in Hokkaido, but I do have some extended family in the Kyoto prefecture as well."

Kisame looked lost, so Itachi laughed and snatched a napkin from the dispenser on the table, along with ketchup and a toothpick.

"Okay, so this is Japan," he drew out the four main islands as best as he could with his makeshift tools, "This big island here is Hokkaido. The southern part of Hokkaido is where a lot of my family lives," he made a big ketchup blob where Hakodate was, then moved down to the biggest island, "This big island is Honshu. Tokyo is here," another red dot, "And the Kansai region is here," he circled about a quarter of the island, "Kyoto, which is in this part of the region, is what you think of when you think of traditional Japanese culture. It's full of temples, shrines, gardens, and a lot of people consider it to be the cultural heart of Japan."

"Have you ever been?" Kisame's eyes only glanced down at the napkin a couple of times, and never seemed to stray from his date's face long enough for the geography lesson to actually sink in.

Itachi's chest swelled at the reminder, "My parents made it a point to go during every school break. I've actually got some family in Gujo Hachiman, as well," he added another dot that sort of just kind of melded into the Kyoto dot to make one giant blob, "My cousins even taught me how to properly bridge jump so I could jump into the Yoshida River as a rite of passage when I was sixteen."

Kisame's expression went slack, "You jumped off of a _bridge_?!"

"Are you really going to tell me that you've never gone cliff diving?"

"Well, I _have_ , but I'm kinda the embodiment of the stereotypes," he grinned, "I'm just surprised. You don't seem to type to just… Let go and start jumping off bridges to impress your cousins for fun."

Itachi's glare was deadpan, " _Excuse_ me, I have _plenty_ of fun."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Kisame's smile expanded, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, "Is there a specific time of year you like to visit?"

He thought for a moment, capturing his straw between his lips to use the water as an excuse to keep his mouth busy as their waiter set their bruschetta between them. "Most people want to visit during springtime so they can see the cherry blossoms, but I've always looked forward to visiting in the autumn months to see the changing of the leaves."

"You don't like cherry blossoms?" Kisame asked around a mouthful of toasted bread and tomatoes.

Itachi shook his head, "No, the cherry blossoms are gorgeous, but…" he looked down at his hands, which had crumbled up his haphazard map, "A lot of Japan's classic architecture used a lot of crimson and gold, so when you visit the shrines and temples, it creates for the most _resplendent_ canvas that just takes your breath away…" A fond smile tugged at his lips, "And historic areas are known for having hidden gardens, and when you see them in the fall, there are so many _colors_ …" Itachi lifted his gaze to meet Kisame's, "There are reds, and greens, and purples, with winding rivers and ponds so smooth they're like _mirrors_ , and it feels like time doesn't exist there – like nothing on the outside matters, because you've found this ethereal location that hasn't been touched by the rest of the world. It's so exquisite, and intense, and, oh, _Kisame_ , it's the most _beautiful_ thing you will ever see in your life..."

Across the table, Kisame's gaze softened, and he reached out to cover Itachi's hand with his own. It wasn't until his breathing hitched that he was even made aware of the familiar burn of tears in his eyes; he used his free hand to wipe at what he couldn't blink away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how much I missed it until now," he admitted, "I don't get many opportunities to talk about it."

Kisame shook his head as his thumb rubbed at his wrist, "That's not something to apologize for. When was the last time you went back?"

Itachi's eyes dropped down to their joined hands, "I haven't even heard from my family since I was eighteen. My home life was… Unsatisfactory, for all intents and purposes," he shifted uncomfortably, "It was a pretty intense stereotype of pre-war marriages – my father was very stern and felt no need to show unnecessary affection, and my mother was all but subservient to him, so it was a very cold household. It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop no matter where you were standing. My _extended_ family, however…" Itachi sipped at his water, "They were an amicable bunch. Having the opportunity to see them was half of the appeal of visiting Japan. The thought of going back, without having that waiting for me…" He trailed off, letting Kisame fill in the gaps.

Thankfully it seemed that Kisame understood what he was trying to say.

"I can't imagine what it would be like to not be able to see my family… Have you tried to reach out to them?"

Itachi shook his head and didn't lift his gaze, "I stopped hearing from them after I moved to Nevada. I felt it was safe to assume that they had no interest in speaking with me once my father told them about how his son likes having dick shoved up his rectum."

He hadn't meant for it to come out as spiteful as it did, but Itachi noticed the sharp edge to his tone, and grimaced inwardly.

With a sigh heavy enough for Itachi to feel the air pass over their hands, Kisame nudged their drinks and plate to the side so he could cradle his free hand in both of his own. A few minutes ticked by where they both sat in a tense silence. Itachi didn't know what to say, and it seemed that Kisame was thinking about something deep as he idly watched his thumbs massage the palm of his hand. It wasn't until he moved from the bottom of Itachi's thumb to the first knuckle of his middle finger that he finally said anything.

"Look, if I'm crossing a line then I completely understand, but… Are you ashamed of your sexuality?"

Itachi's cheek twitched.

"Ashamed is a poor way to put it," he responded quietly, "Aware of the consequences that are posed when one comes out, is a little more fitting."

Kisame's fingers moved upwards to knead into his fingertips, which Itachi was beginning to think was just a way for him to keep his hands busy. "Are you out?" he asked thickly.

He shrugged, "It's never come up in a public situation. My past teammates have all known." Itachi peeked through his lashes to get a look at Kisame's face, which looked grim. He was well aware of how Kisame came out publicly when Haku was attacked by another member of their organization – nearly every news outlet wrote up an article on how he lost his cool during a stream, and explained everything that had been happening behind the scenes.

Another uncomfortable silence filled the air between the two.

"Has it really _never_ come up, or do you just dodge questions?" Kisame's eyes rose to meet his.

Itachi frowned. "I simply have no interest in making a spectacle of my sex life," he said a little brusquely.

More silence.

The hands rubbing out the tension in his hands were now moving back up to his wrist, and the soothing sensation of the idle massage combined with the lethargy that came with bouts of depression was beginning to make him sleepy. Itachi didn't like where this was heading.

"Itachi… I won't tell you how to live your life, but I don't want _half_ of a relationship," Kisame stopped kneading, and simply held Itachi's hand between his as he spoke, "I want to be open. I want to able to talk about us. I want to be able to take pictures, and hold you in public…" He took a shaky breath, "I can't – I _won't_ – get involved in a dead-end relationship with someone that wants to sneak around and keep things a secret, like it's something to be ashamed of."

A cold wire of fear snaked around Itachi's insides and squeezed tight enough to crush his guts. He knew what Kisame was saying, and what was being asked of him, and it scared the hell out of him. It didn't help that they had to pull apart once their server brought them their dinners, which almost seemed like some sort of sick cosmic joke as the space between the two was increased.

He wanted this. Itachi knew that he wanted to hold onto what they had – he knew that they had a good thing going between them, and Kisame was someone that he genuinely wanted to have in his life.

It wasn't a matter of privacy, though. Itachi meant it when he said that he wasn't ashamed, he was simply aware of the negative connotations that came with romance between two men. Whispers of sponsors pulling out, organizations dropping players, and teams having their invites to premier-level events had been circulating the community for years. Most them were just baseless rumors that were spread by devoted fans that were salty over their favorite player getting dropped, but there was truth to some of them.

And then there was what happened with…

"Kisame, I need to be honest with you."

They both pushed their untouched plates to the side, but Itachi didn't offer up his hands to be held again. Instead, he tightly folded his arms over his chest while Kisame patiently waited for him to collect his bearings.

"Do you remember how I said I used to work in a brothel?" he asked tentatively as he realized that he had no idea what Kisame's relationship with his former team was.

"As their piano player?" Kisame's brow knitted, "Yeah."

Itachi's finger thumbed the sleeve of his sweater anxiously. "Do you remember how I said the owner gave me the option to take clients, or walk?"

Confusion was written all over his face as he nodded stiffly.

"The only reason he hired me in the _first_ place was because he found out that I was gay. He didn't _care_ about having a pianist, it just happened to be coincidence that he liked piano and kept one in the front room to practice when it got slow…" Itachi took a deep breath through his belly to calm himself, releasing it slowly, "So…"

"You bonded over music and became an item," Kisame finished for him.

It was Itachi's turn to nod, though he wasn't sure if he was looking at him anymore as he kept his eyes locked on the condensation that rolled down the side of his water glass, "That was when he pushed clients in my direction. When I was both financially and emotionally dependent on him."

"Itachi…"

Maybe the stress was finally getting to him, but a sardonic laugh made its way past Itachi's lips, and he ran a trembling hand through his hair, "It took less than one date for me to start _lying_ to you. Kisame, I let him manipulate me into taking clients, and then Kakashi used that _against_ me -"

Understanding seemed to finally set in, and Kisame reached over the small table to tuck Itachi's bangs behind his ear, "Babe, you don't have to tell me this."

Desperate for some kind of physical contact with him, Itachi grabbed his hand before it could recede and squeezed it tightly, as if silently begging him to hold on. Thankfully, Kisame was good at picking up on more than just verbal cues.

"It's something you're going to have to find out," he whispered.

"You're right, it's something we'll have to talk about at some point," Kisame's thumb rubbed the back of his knuckles, "But not like this. Not when you feel pressured into it."

"I… Don't want this to end, and if you know why–"

" _Jesus_ , Itachi, baby," he leaned forward across the table and, through some act of god, managed to capture Itachi's from his lap so that he held both in his own, "I'm not trying to put you on the spot – and I _sure_ as shit wouldn't want a reflexive decision over this."

Itachi let Kisame bring both of his hands to his mouth while the wire wrapped around his insides finally began to ease up from its sickeningly tight stranglehold. He hadn't realized just how much he wanted Kisame in his life until just then, when the prospect of him walking out was a glaring possibility.

"I could have worded that a lot better," Kisame admitted, pressing a kiss into his knuckles, "I just mean that I respect myself too much to allow myself to be with someone that's ashamed of what we have," he quit paying attention to his hands long enough to meet his gaze, "But I also respect _you_ too much to not at least be willing to compromise and give you time to make an informed decision, and…" Kisame sighed, " _Shit_ , Itachi, if you _just_ wanna come out to the team, first, then that's _fine_. I just… I want to know that this has the potential to go somewhere, even if that means having to climb over a hurdle or two, first."

Itachi couldn't help but continue to frown even as the worry from earlier dissipated. It was very quickly replaced by, low and behold, guilt from having ruined the moment. Two dates and one evening in, and he was three for three in managing to turn something good into a somber conversation.

All he was capable of was playing a video game, and bringing people down.

Warm, soft lips sealed over his own, and Kisame's hands skirted over Itachi's arms and shoulders to cup both sides of his face.

"Itachi, we need to have these talks," he murmured into his mouth, "They keep us on the same page. Don't feel bad."

He could feel Kisame smile against his lips before pulling back to sit back in the booth. He didn't say anything, or move to take Itachi's hands again, he simply stared back at him with a genuine warmth that Itachi wasn't sure he would ever get used to.

Kisame's smile faltered, though, and his brow furrowed slightly, "I do have a question, though."

Itachi hummed curiously.

"You took clients..?"

He blinked calmly against the trickle of panic in his veins. "There were seven in total, and they all used protection. The last partner I took was eight months ago and I've been tested on several occasions in the last four years." Itachi felt like he was submitting a resume…

The tension in Kisame's jaw lessened, "So, you don't…"

"Kisame, if it will make you feel better, I can schedule a blood test tomorrow."

He cracked a slow smile that quelled Itachi's anxiety, and brought one of Itachi's hands to his lips again, "Nah, baby, I believe you. I just wanted to make sure."

He looked back at their dinners, "Can we eat these at home?"

Without missing a beat, Kisame twisted around and waved down their waiter for three boxes.

* * *

"You're joking."

Itachi snorted and washed down the last bite of bruschetta with some tea, shaking his head.

"Itachi, you're _Japanese_. You've visited Japan, and you were raised by _immigrants_ ," Kisame's expression curled inwards, "How do you speak Korean _and_ Mandarin _fluently_ , but you can only manage _basic_ conversations in Japanese?"

He shrugged, "Excuse me for not adhering to stereotypes like a certain someone."

Kisame raised an eyebrow, "Says the Asian that plays video games _and_ piano on a professional level."

Itachi stuck out his tongue, which may or may not have still been discolored from residual balsamic vinaigrette.

They were sitting on the edge of the team house's pool, which glowed a gentle blue from the series of lights that quivered whenever Kisame shifted. His jeans were rolled up to his knees so he could dangle his legs in the water, but Itachi's were too tight so he sat by his side with his legs folded beneath him.

Setting his empty Styrofoam box off to the side, Kisame leaned back with his weight propped on his hands and looked up at the sky, "You ever see the night sky outside of the city?"

Itachi shook his head, "I can't say I've ever been presented with the opportunity to leave the city, in general," he leaned back on elbows, "Have you ever flown through a cloud during a thunderstorm?"

"Can planes do that?"

He shrugged with a lazy smile, "When I was in Mangekyo, we had a flight coming back from an event in Berlin that flew us straight through a series of clouds that were _full_ of lightning. It was well into the night, so it was the only thing you could see outside the window – one minute it would be pitch-black, and then a flash of light, and suddenly rolling hues of blues and purples and silver," Itachi turned his smile from the sky to Kisame, "It was breathtaking, Kisame."

His smile expanded, and Kisame jerked his head towards the pool, "Wanna swim for a bit?"

Itachi looked down at his body, then back at his date, "I don't own trunks."

"We can swim in our underwear," Kisame all but rolled his eyes at the look of surprise being aimed in his direction, "Babe, It's basically the same thing. Just a little shorter."

Dark eyes narrowed, "I bet you go skinny dipping, too."

Kisame raised an eyebrow, "Babe, skinny dipping is something _everyone_ does at least once."

"I'm in my twenties and have never once gone swimming naked."

That elicited a laugh that rang through the quiet patio, "That's it. You need to come back home with me, and we're gonna go skinny dipping in a swimming hole, at night."

"The whole trifecta, huh?" Itachi snorted, "That's quite an elaborate plan you have just to get me naked."

"As magical as I'm sure it would be to make sweet, _tender_ love beneath all those stars," Kisame winked, "I promise that I have the purest intentions."

Itachi rolled his eyes, but his smile never faltered as he looked back up at the inky night sky, "It's that nice, is it?"

"Babe, it's _so_ beautiful. There are so many stars – _billions_ \- they almost _entirely_ fill up the night sky. And it's not black, like this. The Milky Way stretches across the whole sky, and it lights everything up enough to turn it blue and grey..." Kisame sighed happily, "Pictures don't even come _close_ to doing it justice. It's like you're looking straight into heaven, Itachi."

The wonder in his voice was similar to the way he spoke of surfing and when fish approached him when he swam in the ocean, and Itachi couldn't help but smile warmly in response. There was something so refreshing about how spirited he was when it came to the things that he clearly loved.

He turned his head to sneak a peek at Kisame's face, and felt as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

The rippling water sent shadows dancing along the contours of his face, and that fierce, impassioned look had returned to his eye. It was clear that Kisame was completely lost in his own thoughts, with his seemingly perpetual grim having softened into a content smile, and Itachi made sure to be as silent as possible as to not disturb him. Instead, he watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and the way his throat subtly pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Itachi noticed how Kisame's developed muscles would twitch every now and then to keep him stable and upright, and how his spiky hair quivered with the rare breeze that rolled through on what was otherwise a still night.

Kisame must have felt his eyes on him, because he eventually seemed to pull himself out of whatever musings he had been lost in to turn that same intense look onto him. His smile expanded a little to expose his absurdly white teeth, and maybe it was just Itachi being lost in the moment but he swore that the goofball that annihilated the concept of pancakes had been body snatched and replaced by some freakishly ethereal creature that had no business on Earth. Kisame's eyes, so light and vibrant, practically glittered with the glow of the pool lights that rippled as he moved, and every now and then his piercings would catch the light in a way that almost made the finished metal look as if they were glowing.

Itachi was at a complete loss for words. He felt like a soldier that had been dropped into the middle of a warzone with only an empty revolver and the hopes of finding bullets on the battlefield, except there are only spent shells and Itachi had never fired a gun in his entire life. His heart simultaneously ached and felt overfull, and offered no resistance when Kisame scooped him up like he was nothing more than a weightless doll to set him down across his lap.

The warm comfort of his arms offered little reprieve from the way his chest felt like it was going to tear itself in two from being simultaneously terrified and so absolutely happy about being held by Kisame, but Itachi found himself curling into that broad chest, relishing the way he could smell the spicy scent of his body wash as a contented smile crossed his face.

At some point his brain must have short-circuited again, because somehow the hand that wasn't pinned between their bodies snaked up over Kisame's chest and around his neck so he could run the tip of his index finger through his short hair. That finger is then joined by the others, and then Itachi's got his whole hand buried in those garish blue locks, and before he knows it his other arms circles his shoulders and he's _clinging_ to Kisame. His entire upper body is twisted around so he can clutch at Kisame like he's going to fall and shatter into a million pieces if he lets go, and all Kisame does is tighten his arms around his waist and helps him readjust so that he's straddling his lap with his ankles crossed behind his hips instead of damn near giving his spine a spiral fracture.

It doesn't take long for Itachi to start crying. He wasn't really sure why, or what prompted it, but he still kept his face buried in the hollow of Kisame's neck to muffle the sobs that grew in intensity. Maybe was because he never had time to deal with Shisui leaving, and having to move into a strange place with people he didn't know within the same week, and the loneliness that came with that. Maybe it was the pressure of having to perform on a major team again. Maybe it was the reminder of how his family had disowned him before he was even given the chance to graduate high school, or because he finally admitted to someone other than Shisui and Kakashi that he let himself get pushed into prostitution by some sleazy jackass. It could have been because Itachi felt actually could envision showing Kisame the temples in Kyoto, or letting him convince him to get naked in some isolated swimming hole, and that _scared_ him because he wanted it to be more than just an imaginary scene in his head.

Maybe it was all of it coming down to crash on him all at once. Itachi honestly didn't have the faintest clue as he tightened his hold on Kisame's broad shoulders, which was already hard enough to leave red marks from where Itachi's fingertips gripped at him. Kisame never complained, though. Every time Itachi desperately pulled him tighter, the arms around his waist would follow suit. He didn't complain, or ask what was wrong, or try to coo at him to calm down like one normally would. No, Kisame merely held Itachi to his chest in silence as he released what his worn-out heart and his exhausted mind had been struggling to cope with.

It was difficult to keep track of time when you were crying hard enough for your throat to nearly swell shut, so Itachi wasn't entirely sure how long they spent like that. It could have been just a couple of minutes but, judging by the sizes of the wet spots on his shirt from both tears and spit and other unmentionable body fluids, it was probably a hell of a lot longer than that by the time he calmed down into sporadic, ragged bursts of breath. It wasn't quite sobbing anymore, but it wasn't really normal breathing, either.

"Let's get you to bed, babe," Kisame whispered, his arms dropping to secure his hips.

No, Itachi wasn't ready to move, yet. He wanted to stay like this for a little while longer…

Too bad, though, because Kisame was already pulling his legs out of the water and turning onto his knees to raise himself into a standing position. Itachi was far too exhausted to offer any protest, or ask about the three Styrofoam boxes that were stacked next to the pool, so he allowed himself to be led through the sliding glass door and through the quiet house.

Apparently he was taken to his room, though the journey getting there was really nothing more than a dark smear that just involved him moving a lot like molasses. Itachi only barely remembered kissing Kisame good night, then somehow finding the energy to haul his dresser over the crack of his door. He didn't bother with changing into his pajamas, simply kicking off his jeans and falling into bed.

Itachi slept well that night.


	8. Chapter 7

Gyms were not Itachi's happy place.

He harbored no ill thoughts towards exercise in general – he used to go on regular morning runs around the neighborhood with Yugao and Naka during his time on their respective teams – but it was the actual gym _itself_ that he absolutely abhorred.

Itachi kept his face perfectly straight so he could look out the windows that stretched all of the way up to the high-vaulted ceilings. With his eyes fixed on the parking lot and his ears occupied by ear buds that were feeding him a constant stream of music, he could almost pretend that he wasn't surrounded by nearly a hundred different people.

Almost.

Even if it was in their contract, no one fucking told him that the rest of the team was composed of people that could bench their weight, or twice that, in Kisame's case. Itachi had sort of assumed that Konan just biked or did yoga, as lean as she was, but no – there she was doing her third set on a machine that had her lifting what looked like eighty pounds of iron, or whatever the hell the weights were made of. Even Sasori, who looked like he had limp noodles under his jeans, was on some sort of leg curling machine with a stack of weights that had to be half as tall as he was.

Itachi frowned and upped the speed on the treadmill so that he was nearly sprinting. If he was struggling to keep up the pace then he wouldn't be able to think about how insecure he was for being the only one on the team, or in the gym in general, that had the muscle mass of an eight year-old.

Of course, Kisame had to throw a big, fat monkey wrench into his plans by hopping his admittedly perfect butt off of a leg press machine to make his way over to where Itachi was running like someone just threatened to sodomize him with a cactus.

When he stopped to stand rather imposingly in front of the treadmill that Itachi had been hogging for the last twenty minutes, Itachi simply pretended to be exceedingly focused on the assortment of cars in the parking lot. He knew that Kisame knew that he was blatantly ignoring him; when a 6'4" dude weighing nearly 250 pounds of muscle marched up to your face, you took notice. It didn't help that he was wearing the same tank top he wore when they met, so this tattoos were just as much of an eye-grabber as the tousled blue hair that Itachi would like nothing more than to run his fingers through.

A minute passed, then two, then three, and Kisame was still standing there with his arms crossed, sipping at a water bottle, and looking profoundly unamused with the idea of being ignored. By minute four, Itachi gave him an equally disgruntled look and pulled out an ear bud to hook it over his shoulder.

"Babe, you need to do more than just run."

Nope. The treadmill was his safe zone – there was no way he was venturing out into the jungle that was weight machines and dumbbells. You know what the jungle was full of? Lions. Momma didn't raise no zebra fool.

"I like running," he panted.

Kisame peered over the machine to get a look at the monitor, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"I'm fine."

"Your form's wrong. You're over striding."

" _Kisame_ ," Itachi looked at him sharply, but was met with a passive gaze.

"I mean it, you're going to end up hurting yourself if you keep this up," he took another sip of water, "Excessive running can do more damage than good, especially when you already don't take care of yourself."

There was a flash of irritation that forced Itachi to look back out the window to avoid subjecting Kisame to a rather rude look. He understood why Kisame made such a point of making sure the people around him were in peak condition, but it was honestly beginning to get on Itachi's nerves. He was hot, he was sweaty, he was tired, and he felt like he was in a game of "One of these things is most-fucking-certainly _not_ like the other." The last thing he wanted was to have a very conspicuous man standing in front of him and drawing attention while patronizing him _again_ on his health.

Except Kisame wasn't the patronizing _type_. He was genuinely concerned because he was a _nice_ guy that _looked out_ for others while Itachi took that kindness for granted and got fussy because he was embarrassed by his inability to keep up with everyone else.

And damn it all if he wasn't pissed at Kisame for being so goddamn patient and making it difficult to actually be mad at the way he was watching him with deep concern that lurked behind a curtain of patience.

Itachi hit the button that would start the five minute cool down and wasn't even the least bit surprised at the lack of satisfaction on the other man's face. Instead, he just looked relieved.

Fucker.

"Thank you," he sounded genuine as he set his water bottle in the treadmill's cup holder, "Will you meet me in the locker room when you're done?"

If he weren't so out of breath, Itachi would have huffed. Instead, he just grumbled something akin to "Alright" and kept his face forward.

He knew that he was being a brat, and that Kisame didn't deserve to be treated like some sort of villain. During the contract signing, Madara was right in saying that being a professional gamer came with a lot of risks to your physical well being. Carpal tunnel ran rampant through every scene, especially with fighting games, and more often than not you were hearing about someone developing back problems that came from being stuck in a chair.

As if on cue, the sore spot next to his shoulder blade flared up.

It was probably a good thing to be a part of an organization that put an emphasis on its players' health. Even as the industry was experiencing a number of changes, with game publishers stepping in to lay down basic requirements in favor of the players, there were still a lot of teams out there that didn't really give a care in the world about their employees as long as they could meet their expectations in-game. Mangekyo and Anbu both required physicals to be performed every twelve months, but that was about it and Akatsuki required them at the start of every _season_.

Itachi just wished that they would allow them to exercise on their _own_. He was much more comfortable with running in the mornings on his own, than feeling like he was being put on display. It made him self conscious, which made him irritable.

Five minutes finished all too soon, and he found himself moving like molasses while wiping down the treadmill. After stopping to fill the now empty bottle at one of the many water fountains stationed around the gym, Itachi eventually decided he couldn't keep finding ways to put off going to the locker room.

Kisame was doing pushups on the floor by the time he finally trudged through the winding hall that made up for the lack of doors. As soon as he saw Itachi, he gave him a warm smile and straightened into a standing position in order to sit on the bench with his legs on either side of the plank.

Why did it feel like Itachi was about to be lectured by his parents?

"Turn your back to me," Kisame instructed once he settled down on the bench, facing the lockers. Once Itachi was positioned away from him, he felt Kisame's warm, large hands come down to rest on his shoulders. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what's wrong."

His lips slid shut at the gentle pressure being applied to the base of his neck, "Nothing's wrong."

Kisame sighed after a short pause. "Are we already lying to each other?"

That was dirty.

"I just… Really hate gyms," Itachi admitted, fisting the hem of his shirt, "A lot."

"Are you embarrassed?" the fingers began to slowly crawl south to knead into his shoulders. When he didn't answer, Kisame scooted forward on the bench to nuzzle the back of his head, "Babe, everyone out there is just focused on themselves. No one'll even pay attention to you."

Itachi twisted his shirt. He knew that – he wasn't so conceited that he felt that the second he stepped foot onto the floor that every eye in the room would be watching his every move. However, the last time Itachi made an attempt at doing anything other than running, some guy waltzed over to make a big issue about how he was doing something wrong.

It was mortifying, to say the least.

When Itachi stiffened, Kisame smoothed his hands down his arms to circle his waist. "Will you at least do something with me?"

"I don't see why this is so important," he mumbled, trying his best not to let his pout seep into his voice.

"Because _you're_ important to me," Kisame's arms tightened around his waist to hold him against his chest, "And I want to see you healthy."

Itachi had to fight the urge to protest against the first part of that statement, because he was having trouble seeing how anyone could say that they found you _important_ to their lives after just a little over three weeks of dating in secret. The only thing that stopped him was because he was reminded of their night by the pool.

It'd be pretty hypocritical of him to try and contest that point.

Instead, he released his shirt to hold his arms over the ones looped around his waist and murmured, "Running _is_ healthy."

"In _moderation_ , yeah, otherwise you're just putting a shit ton of pressure on your legs. The last thing you want is to start living like Batman in _Dark Knight Rises_ 'cause you've got damaged ligaments and worn-out cartilage," Kisame pressed one last kiss to the back of his head before resting his cheek against his hair, "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I _really_ wish you would take my advice on this. Strength training is more than just looking like a beefcake."

Itachi couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, and only had enough time to slap his hand over his mouth to keep it from echoing throughout the empty locker room. "Don't _ever_ use that kind of terminology again," he giggled, voice partially muffled by his fingers.

"What, beefcake?" Kisame's goofy smile rang in his voice.

He snorted not-so-delicately, "Oh my god."

A deep, throaty laugh rumbled in Kisame's chest, and Itachi tried to not pay too much attention to how warm it made him feel, or how a shiver ran down his spine when he felt the other man's breath on his ear as he slid his cheek downwards.

"Babe," Kisame kissed next to his ear, "I'm gonna head back out. If you want to join me, you know where I'll be."

Itachi frowned, though he wasn't sure if it was because he felt bad about the lilt in Kisame's voice that told him that he didn't really expect Itachi to follow, or because of the sudden sensation of emptiness that came from Kisame's warmth no longer surrounding his body. The cold air rushed in to meet Itachi's sweat-slicked skin, and he fought the urge to shiver.

"Wait –" he bit his lip and averted his gaze when Kisame turned to look back at where he was still perched on the bench. Itachi had half a mind to just let him go, to just apologize for being such an irritable brat all morning, but he seemed to have a recurring problem with bringing down Kisame's mood and damn it all if he wasn't sick and tired of being the stick in the mud in their relationship.

"I don't know what to do," he finally admitted, feeling his stomach twist, "I… I need help."

Man, he really needed to work on his pride issues if he was getting this tense and worked up over asking for assistance. It felt like he was about to throw up.

Kisame walked back over to the bench to offer both of his hands, "That's alright, I can show – babe?" he turned one of Itachi's hands over to take his pulse, "Holy shit."

Swinging a leg around to stand up on shaking legs that suddenly felt too weak to support his thin frame, Itachi navigated around the other man to double over in front of a toilet. Ever the supportive lover, Kisame was behind him in a matter of moments to hold back his hair with one hand while his other rubbed soothing circles into his back as Itachi's stomach attempted to vacate its contents.

Unfortunately for him, Itachi had only consumed about half of a bottle of water that morning because he hated running with anything in his stomach; running always bounced around his insides enough to make him feel queasy so he'd rather just be uncomfortable than vomiting up pancakes. Of course, this meant that Itachi was subjected to making horrendous, disgusting gagging noises with only trickles of foamy bile dripping into the toilet.

Itachi groaned. Not because of the nausea, but because of how absolutely mortified he was.

This was really shaping up to be a spectacular start to his day.

It took nearly five minutes for his stomach to finally give up on trying to turn itself inside-out, and Itachi allowed himself to be helped over to the sink so he could wash his mouth out because there was literally no point in trying to save his pride by this point. What left of it there was from earlier had been flushed down the tubes with Itachi's stomach acid and saliva. When Kisame reached for his wrist again, he shrunk away with another groan.

"I just wanna get your heart rate to make sure you don't need to go to the hospital," he explained quietly, pushing his water bottle into Itachi's hand.

The dehydration, soreness from vomiting, and his own insecurities finally built to the moment where Itachi snapped. With his hands on the sink to keep him stable, he dropped to a crouching position and hung his head.

"I don't understand why you keep putting up with me," he mumbled, "All I do is cause you problems."

Kisame sighed, and Itachi could hear him lower himself to the tiled floor with his legs crossed, "Remember what I said on our first date about everyone having their own issues?"

He hummed.

"Well, I meant it, Itachi. I don't go into relationships expecting things to be hunky-dory all of the time. When everything's that perfect I kinda feel like both parties aren't being totally honest with each other, which just isn't healthy." Kisame gently tugged Itachi away from the sink so he could pull him into a gentle hold in his lap, "I mean, yeah, you're a handful but, if you're _aware_ of that, then I'm willing to put in the effort to help you grow past it. Besides…" he rested his head on Itachi's shoulder and let his hands slide down to his forearms, "It's not like I'm perfect, either."

Itachi all but snorted as he pinched the fabric of the compression shorts underneath his regular gym shorts.

"Really – babe, do you think I _honestly_ don't notice how irritated people get when I push the health thing a little farther than I should?" When Itachi shrugged, Kisame gave his arms a light squeeze, "I do. But I do it anyways because I… I get _really_ nervous and start thinking that if I didn't say something, and that person got _hurt_ or _sick_ , then it'd be my fault. So, I harass people I care about just to make myself feel better."

"And I have this need for physical contact," he continued before Itachi had a chance to speak, "I get real fuckin' anxious without it – shit, I used to go to bars all the time to pick up random guys just so I could feel their hands on me and fall asleep holding them…"

Itachi could hear the shame threaded into his voice, and he twisted around in Kisame's lap to see it etched into his face. "Is that why you insisted to see me the night you asked me out?"

He gave a self deprecating laugh that didn't reach his eyes, and nodded before burying his face into Itachi's shoulder, "I know you went through a lot of bad shit with your last guy, I just…" Kisame paused, and Itachi felt his heart break a little at just how nervous he really was with talking about this, "I want you to know that I'm not trying to paw at you. It's a comfort thing. It just reminds me that… That someone's there for me."

Now that he thought about it… Whether it just be a quick kiss, or reaching for his hand, or running his fingers through his hair, or pulling him into his chest, Kisame always seemed to be touching him in some way or another. Itachi was just so comfortable around him that he honestly hardly ever noticed – or, rather, he _did_ notice, he just didn't _mind_.

Bringing his hands up to cup both sides of Kisame's face, Itachi tilted his head up from where it was nestled in the hollow of his neck to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I like it when you put your hands on me," he murmured against his skin, "It makes me feel safe."

It felt like Kisame's entire body relaxed, and his shoulders shook with a quiet laugh of relief, "Thank fucking god," he kissed Itachi's jaw.

He bit back a grin. It actually felt really nice to finally admit that.

There was a moment where neither of them said anything and simply basked in one another's presence. Itachi's hands left Kisame's face to curl around his broad shoulders, finally allowing himself to sag into his body with a contented sigh. Every now and then Kisame would readjust his hold on his waist or brush his lips against his cheek just for the sake of intimacy, and Itachi felt that light, bubbly feeling in his chest return and force his lips into a smile.

This man was so absolutely dangerous, and he didn't even have the slightest clue.

Unfortunately, their happy moment of cuddles was cut all too short when Itachi's stomach twisted.

"Crap, I think I'm going to be sick," he groaned, holding the back of his hand to his lips as if it would stave off the nausea.

"Oh, shit, right," Kisame reached for his ignored bottle of water to hand it over, "Slow sips. Do you wanna lay down in the waiting room?

Ever the big spender, Akatsuki eSports provided gym memberships to a self-described fitness club that was really more of a place for women to find rich baby daddies. Each ostentatiously designed locker room had individual closed showers, a steam room, a sauna, a handful of private changing rooms, and a small area with sofas surrounding a television set that honestly made no sense in being there because who goes to the gym to watch Maury?

Itachi nodded and, after a few moments to brace himself, let himself take advantage of Kisame's strength as he leaned into the hand that was supporting his elbow as they walked.

"Does it normally get like this?" Kisame asked while helping him stretch out over the couch.

As redundant as it felt to have a sitting room like this, Itachi couldn't help but feel grateful for the cool microfiber that immediately began to soothe him. He shook his head, "I don't typically make a habit of becoming dehydrated, I've just been in a sour mood this morning for some reason, and I suppose I simply stopped paying attention."

Kisame frowned, obviously not content with his explanation, but didn't bother with scolding him – probably because he knew that Itachi was already kicking himself in the ass for letting himself get this bad. Instead, he just ran his fingers through Itachi's bangs, brushing them away from his face and gently working out the small tangles that formed during his run. He gave a quiet, breathy laugh when Itachi suddenly scrunched up his nose in disgust, "What?"

"I can't believe you kissed me," he turned his head on the pillow to meet Kisame's gaze, "That could not have tasted pleasant."

Kisame's face stretched into a smirk, "Nonsense. You tasted like sugar and honey."

Itachi laughed and rolled his eyes, "You're absurd."

"You keep calling me names, after I've been so nice to you."

"And you still stick around," he mirrored Kisame's smirk, "I'm beginning to think you enjoy the abuse."

Kisame's blue eyes flashed, "What if I do?"

Itachi balked, and apparently whatever expression he wore must have been simply hilarious because it was enough to make the other man bark out a laugh that was loud enough to scare the hell right out of him.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," Kisame cooed, "I've heard enough of Zabuza's stories to know that I _definitely_ don't want to go down that rabbit hole."

He pressed a hand to his chest, where he could feel is racing heart thumping against his ribcage, "You aren't funny."

"Then why are you smiling?"

Itachi snorted and swatted at the hand still brushing his hair, "Shut up."

Kisame grabbed his fingers before they could retreat, bringing his hand up to his mouth to press a kiss against his knuckles before lacing their fingers together.

Itachi's eyes lingered on their conjoined hands, noting how vastly different they were in almost every way. His were thin, and pale, whereas Kisame's were large and the color of iced coffee. With each of his fingers being twice the size of Itachi's, Itachi felt like his hands looked almost fragile by comparison.

He pulled their fingers apart so he could open up Kisame's palm. As the tip of his index finger traced along the lines of his hand, pausing every now and then to circle one of the many calluses, Itachi grinned at the way Kisame's fingers would twitch every now and then at the tickling sensation when the pressure was too light.

"What are you thinking about?" Kisame's voice was quiet, though Itachi wasn't sure if it was to not break the comfortable silence between them or so the people now walking into the locker room couldn't hear them.

"Your hands are so rough…" Itachi's eyes didn't leave his textured palm, "You must give rather painful hand jobs."

Kisame made a small surprised noise that seemed to get caught in the back of his throat, and his fingers twitched reflexively in Itachi's hands. By the time he noticed the teasing smirk on his face, Kisame's cheeks were stained a deep red and he honestly looked like he was about to stroke out right there on the floor.

By the time he recovered, Itachi had to take a couple of slow, deep breaths to settle his stomach after jostling it with his silent simpering.

"You deserve that," he chuckled.

That only made Itachi laugh again, and he grimaced at the subsequent wave of nausea, "You're only upset because I'm right."

Kisame raised a derisive eyebrow, "Babe, I am more than happy to give you a demonstration just to show you how wrong you are."

He pretended to consider the offer before sipping at the water bottle with a smirk, "No thank you. I have very little foreskin left – I would much rather not have the rest sanded away."

This time around Itachi was ready for his loud, boisterous laugh and felt his own grin expand against the bottle's spout.

"I promise to be extra gentle with your poor, delicate trimmed penis," Kisame laughed.

Itachi ignored the delicate comment, "You're not circumcised?" The haughty delivering of his earlier statement definitely implied so.

Kisame looked almost nauseated by the thought, "Fuck no – one of my cousins died from a nasty infection after his, so they never had us cut. Didn't feel it was worth the risk."

Both of his eyebrows shot up, "Oh my god, he _died_?"

"Well, the thing is," Kisame shifted from his knees so he was sitting with his legs crossed, "In Tonga, you don't just get it done in the hospital when you're born. You wait 'till you're, like, eight – though some villages wait for ten or eleven. And they don't use any sort of numbing agent."

Itachi subconsciously clamped his knees together and tried to not let his alarm show in his face.

"And because it obviously hurts like a motherfucker, a lot of kids go swimming after it's done so the water can soothe some of the pain away. That's where they _think_ he got the infection, but the fever ended up killing him right after I was born." Kisame shrugged to show that he wasn't upset by the death, considering he didn't know him, and gave Itachi an amused expression, "You gonna be okay?"

He shrank into the sofa, "Kisame, I don't mean to insult your culture but that is one of the most consternating things I have ever heard."

The other man laughed, "It's fucking brutal, right?"

Well, at least he could laugh at it. Itachi had to give those kids credit; he cut himself shaving in the shower the other day and was nearly brought to tears. He was so unnerved by the idea of someone cutting a piece of his skin off at his age without any sort of anesthetic that he couldn't even make a joke about the irony of the situation, given the fact that Itachi's parents decided to go against the norm in their culture, too.

"Anyways, aside from talking about dick-cutting, how are you feeling?"

Itachi took a moment to assess his physical well being. Most of the nausea had managed to subside, weirdly enough, and he had nearly downed the entire bottle of water so the headache he wasn't even aware he had, had fizzled away.

Turning onto his side, he gave Kisame a soft smile, "Better. Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Kisame brushed his bangs back when they flopped over his cheek, "I just sat here."

"You stopped me before I could make things worse, and you let me use your water, and you comforted me and stayed…" his stomach dropped, "Oh, Kisame, you didn't need to stay here with me. I'm sorry, I ruined –"

Kisame put a hand on Itachi's chest to push him back down as he rose up in alarm, "I wouldn't feel right with going back out there knowing you were feeling sick. I wanted to stay and be with you," he responded calmly.

Itachi nestled back into the decorative pillows in resignation, unwilling to make a fuss over something as trivial as this.

It was just as well, because Deidara appeared around the corner in all of his flushed, sweaty gym glory, "Guys, everyone's about –" he paused when the scene before him actually sunk in, "Everything cool?"

Kisame rose to a standing position before helping Itachi back up, "Yeah, he just got a little sick. What about the others?"

"Oh, uh, I figured I'd give you some warning in case you were…" Deidara gestured back and forth between the two.

Confusion etched itself into Kisame's features, "In case we were what?"

Itachi made a face, "He knows," he murmured, feeling himself shrink a little at the way the other man's jaw flexed, "I accidentally ran into him the night I came over for pizza."

"Which, by the way, that blueberry pie was the bomb," Deidara chimed in with a grin. When Kisame's suspicious gaze was turn on him, he made a face, "Relax, man, I didn't tell mom and dad. The only one else that knows is Sasori –" he made a small _o_ with his mouth before frowning at both of their alarmed expressions, "C'mon, I can't keep secrets from Sasori. It's not natural! And he isn't some gossiping _hag_ like Hidan is…" Deidara's expression softened, "Kisame, you're like a brother to me. I want you happy. You really think I'd tell anyone that could get in the way of that?"

There was a long, tense silence between the three of them before Kisame's shoulders relaxed. He closed the distance between them until he was close enough to do that cliché bro handshake/fist bump.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate that," he sounded genuine, which relaxed both Deidara and Itachi enough to not look like the dog that just shit on the carpet by the time the rest of the team made their way into the locker room.

* * *

"Were you waiting long?"

Sasuke looked over his shoulder to see Itachi approach, "Nah."

He would have grinned at the teenager's shyness if it wasn't honestly sad that he was still this uncomfortable with the idea of being around Itachi in a casual setting. How on Earth did he survive through living with him for six months?

"How did your tryout go?" Itachi asked as they turned towards the park entrance. Having taken Shisui's and Itachi's cue to jump ship, Sasuke spent the entire day yesterday going through tryouts with a new team.

He shrugged, "As well as it could have gone."

The vague, curt manner of speech he used was definitely not something that had been missed, "Have they contacted you yet about whether or not they want to sign you?"

"Yeah, I'll be a part of the starting roster at the start of the next season," he answered with as much enthusiasm as a lion would express over broccoli.

"What team is it?" Itachi tried to not make it sound like he was already over how getting information from Sasuke was like pulling teeth.

"Hidden Sound."

Itachi froze. "You're joining _Orochimaru's_ team?"

The teenager looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"Sasuke, that man is bad news." Shady dealings, a compulsive liar, a _pervert_ …

Sasuke shrugged, "I know that, I'm not an idiot. But he's coaching a solid lineup with Fantasia and Macabre. Kabuto, too."

That… Actually was a really strong roster.

Itachi and Shisui used to compete with Kabuto when they were a part of the Leaf and Leaf Academy, and he was an important part of their first win at a Major. Tayuya was an amazing player, too – she practically carried Team Illusion to Worlds last year all on her own. Itachi didn't know much about Kimimaro, though, other than he was around Sasuke's age and showed almost as much promise.

However, that wasn't to say that he wasn't still concerned for Sasuke's well being. "You had Madara look at the contract for you, right?"

He narrowed his eyes as they followed the footpath that led them closer and closer to the sounds of music and chatter, "Obviously. Why are you so worked up over this?"

"Because I know what it's like to be trapped in a bad situation," Itachi explained, "Orochimaru isn't the most upstanding figure in the industry, and I don't want you to find yourself in a similar position."

Even if he was still a little embarrassed, Sasuke's expression softened and he turned his gaze forward as they approached the festival area. "I'll be fine."

Whoever organized the event clearly was experience, and Itachi was briefly reminded of how Sasuke had mentioned that it was run by students from multiple colleges. There was a lavishly decorated outdoor stage equipped with a large overhead where a couple was performing some sort of Indian pop cover, a row of tents that were full of merchants selling various goods, some portable kiosks, and a large seating area. Paper lanterns were strung over the clearing from tree to tree, which had to have been a pain to set up, and there was a young group of people arranging colored rocks in what looked like a lotus design in an area that was blocked off by pink streamers tied to posts.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I honestly never took you for the type to enjoy these sorts of events," Itachi noted once he had a moment to take everything in.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, "You say that like it's a bad thing," he nodded in the direction of what looked like a tea stand, "Hang on. There's someone I wanna say hi to."

He bit back a grin when the teenager immediately made a beeline for the tent, a rare expression of eagerness on his face that reminded Itachi that he was still just a kid.

A tired-looking woman, who looked to be around forty, rose to a standing position upon seeing Sasuke approach her stand. "Sasuke, I was hoping to see you," she said happily, beaming and reaching out to wrap her arms around his shoulders, "You get too tall!"

"You're getting too short," he snickered as he bent over for her, "Where's Camy?"

The auntie rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Away with stupid boy! He come up," she gestured at her stand, "Flashed a pretty smile, and suddenly it's ' _Omma_ , I can't enjoy my youth while I work'!"

Sasuke met her exasperated laugh with one of genuine amusement.

They went back and forth, eventually sitting down behind the plain counter, and Itachi somehow found himself purchasing four cans of teas alongside a to-go plastic cup of cold yujacha. He didn't even know what half of this was, but he was told that the yuja tea was the only type he couldn't actually take home for later so he sipped on it quietly while watching the two catch up. Itachi was beginning to get an idea of why he wanted to come. It was pretty clear that he was quite fond of the family that ran this stand, if the way that his eyes practically flashed happily whenever Hye-sun laughed at his stories was any indication.

"That game takes too much of your time," she said chidingly when Sasuke started talking about transferring to a new team, "How can you date if all you do is compete?"

Pink tinged his cheeks, and Itachi had to fight the urge to laugh at how the poor kid looked like he was going to stroke out in his chair. "Auntie, I don't care about dating. I told you," he nearly hissed.

Hye-sun turned her eyes to Itachi, "He's so handsome! Such pretty long hair! Why not him?"

Every ounce of blood fled Itachi's body to flood his cheeks as his mouth dropped straight to the grass, and Sasuke looked positively scandalized.

" _Auntie!_ "

" _What_? You two both play your game –"

"I am afraid that Sasuke is several years younger than myself," Itachi cut in with a voice that sounded much too small to belong to him, "Such a relationship would violate federal law." And, not to shit on Sasuke, but it wasn't as if they were even remotely compatible and oh god he didn't even want to _think_ about that.

With a pout, Hye-sun turned back to Sasuke, "Oh well, I can introduce you to my niece! She is beautiful girl, and very kind!"

Itachi would have laughed at the helpless expression on the teenager's face, but he was too busy recovering from being forced to imagine himself in a relationship with him. They were going to have to call an ambulance if his heart didn't resume a normal pace, soon.

"And virgin, like you!"

It was obvious that Hye-sun was just teasing him by this point, and Itachi nearly choked on his tea in his attempt at swallowing his laughter. He slammed the plastic cup onto the counter, one hand on his knee, and slapped his other hand over his mouth to spare Sasuke any more humiliation by exploding into a fit of cackling.

Sasuke clearly did not appreciate his efforts, and shot him a piercing look that probably would have been significantly more intimidating if his cheeks weren't puffed out and tinged the cutest shade of bubblegum pink. If anything, it made his shoulders tremble even harder with silent laughter.

"I'm leaving," Sasuke grabbed his drink and jumped to his feet.

Hye-sun's giggling could be heard three stands over.

"Sasuke, calm down," Itachi had to exercise a fair amount of self control to keep his voice level, as much as he wanted to continue snickering to himself, "You know she was only joking around."

He had practically sprinted away from the stand, but he slowed down enough to where Itachi wasn't half-jogging to keep up with him.

"I know that."

"Then why are you –"

Sasuke stopped to look over his shoulder, "What is it…?" he followed Itachi's line of sight to where a young, pretty blonde girl was feeding takoyaki to a mountainous man with blue hair and tattoos, "Hey, isn't that your captain?"

Pressing a hand to his stomach, which seemed to slide straight through his feet and into the ground, Itachi watched Kisame cover his laughing face with his hand, probably because he burned himself. The girl next to him smiled cheerily and handed him a napkin.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the two. "Sasuke… Does the festival include the Pacific Islands, by any chance?" he asked weakly.

"I don't _think_ so… At least, every time I've been it hasn't," Sasuke looked back and forth between them, "Why?"

The girl said something that must have been teasing was they walked, because Kisame used his finger to pick up a glob of mayonnaise off of one of the takoyaki to smear it across her cheek.

Itachi didn't understand.

There was no way what he thought was happening was what was actually happening.

"What, you got a crush on him, or something?

The hand flattened over his belly tightened to grab a fistful of his t-shirt, "Something like that," he whispered.

The duo paused so the girl could detach two piercings in Kisame's ear that must have gotten caught on each other. When she was finished Kisame wrapped an arm around her shoulders for a thank-you hug.

It was all Sasuke needed to understand the situation, and his eyes darkened in time with his lips curving downwards into a deep-set frown, "That piece of _shit_."

Itachi had only a moment's notice to reach out and grab his elbow before he could storm off directly into Kisame's direction, "Sasuke, no."

He whipped around angrily, "What, you're just gonna go sit in a _corner_ while he fucks around with -?"

"I'm sure I've made some sort of mistake," Itachi could barely hold his tea, with the way his fingers were shaking around the wet plastic, "If I haven't… We don't need to make a scene."

There had to be some sort of mistake on his part. Maybe Kisame mentioned that one of his sisters lived in the area, or that he… He…

Itachi was grasping at straws. But Kisame was gay, right?

_Right_?

After a moment of digging around in his brain to remember what he could about their past conversations, he realized that they never covered Kisame's sexuality – in fact, he wasn't even sure if he had even mentioned any past boyfriends. Just fuck buddies. Everything Itachi knew on the matter came from reports on the livestream he came out on, which was only him confirming that he had a thing for other guys. 

That was when Itachi's heart decided to drop down to where his stomach should have been.

No, but, Kisame was a good guy. He was _good_. He was kind and caring, and…

"Hey, you!"

Sasuke bristled when the pair approached them but, after glancing at Itachi, stepped back and kept his mouth shut.

"If I knew you were coming, we could've come together," he flashed that boyish smile and used a plastic fork to stab at one of the takoyaki, "Want some?"

A beat.

"… Racist implications aside?" Itachi asked weakly.

It was a poorly-delivered joke, and Kisame's cheerful demeanor faltered at the sound of his shaky voice, blue eyes giving him a once-over as if checking him for injuries, "You okay?"

Itachi's pearly black eyes darted over to the girl, who was slowly chewing on a mouthful of fried batter. Kisame's drifted to Sasuke and, after seeing his hostile glare, was able to put three and three together. Upon realizing why Itachi looked like he was going to break down into tears, Kisame's expression hardened.

"C'mon. You _really_ think I'm the cheating type?"

The girl nearly choked on her takoyaki and gave him a wide-eyed expression of confusion.

"Babe, this is my _cousin_. She's an Asian literatures and cultures major at UCR. I came by to see if they were going to need help with the _teardown_ later."

UCR was one of the colleges in charge of the festival.

An awkward smile spread across her face as she looked back to Itachi, "Hi, I'm Suiren… I'm guessing you're Itachi..?"

Oh god…

Sasuke's voice saved him from shrinking in on himself until he disappeared into nothing but water vapor.

"I was the one that put the idea in his head," he lied, still standing behind Itachi, "That's why he grabbed me. He said that it was a misunderstanding and didn't want me to cause a scene over nothing."

Well, at least it was a half-truth. He wasn't entirely sure why Sasuke was lying on his behalf, but he wasn't going to argue and make the situation worse.

Kisame grunted, and there was a look in his eye that said that he didn't _really_ believe what Sasuke was saying, but he didn't push the issue and closed the distance between them to pull Itachi into a tight embrace.

" _Aaanyways_ , her break's about up so I'm walking her back to the stage," he pulled back just enough to nudge Itachi's face up for a kiss, "I'll see you in a bit?"

Itachi stood up on his tiptoes for another kiss, this one much longer and slower. The pressure from Kisame's arms holding him firmly against his body helped his shoulders loosen, and the horrible, empty feeling in his stomach was filled with warmth and comfort with every second that their lips were connected. Itachi's fingers hooked around the belt loops of his jeans to somehow tug him closer, sighing contently as he did so.

"See you in a bit," he purred as he took a step back, licking his lips. Itachi looked over to Suiren and smiled, "It was lovely meeting you."

Brown eyes were blinking owlishly, as if she had no idea how to respond to what had just happened in the last couple of minutes, so Itachi motioned for Sasuke to follow him so they could move on.

"Well… That could have been shit," Sasuke hummed.

Now that the tension had fled his body, Itachi found himself laughing in spite of himself. It was the kind of delirium that hit characters in movies after just barely escaping a terrible situation that could have gotten them killed, and he just shook his head in complete disbelief. What the hell was wrong with him?

"I guess that explains why you look so much better."

Itachi looked up from his yujacha as they approached a tent that advertised selling Japanese pop culture items, "Hm?"

Sasuke stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his inky gaze on the signs that marked which area of the tent was dedicated to what genre, "You looked like a fucking _corpse_ when you moved in with us – you were so skinny and never slept…" he stopped in front of a collection of horror imports, "Kinda looked far away, too. Like you were trapped in your own world."

"I think I prefer it when fangirls are the ones commenting on my appearance," Itachi murmured with half-hearted humor, "I don't think they've ever referred to me as a disassociated corpse."

"Yeah, well, I bet they've never sat outside of your room at night to make sure you didn't kill yourself, either."

He nearly gave himself whiplash when he jerked his head up from the movies he had been thumbing through to look at Sasuke incredulously. "Pardon me?"

Without looking up from what looked like used books, Sasuke's expression darkened, "Itachi… I'm not stupid," he sighed, "You were hospitalized _right_ before your transfer."

Itachi was speechless.

"With the way you were when you showed up, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why your org wanted to keep things quiet…" he furrowed his brow and stared at the back of a worn-looking paperback novel, "But you've gotten better…" Sasuke's eyes flitted over to meet Itachi's for a beat, "Especially since he joined the picture."

That was why he lied.

That was why he was so angry at the idea of Kisame being on a date with someone else.

That was why he called last week.

Completely at a loss for words, Itachi dropped his gaze back down to the movies to pretend like didn't feel like the wind had just been knocked out of his lungs.

Thankfully, a very welcomed distraction decided to make its appearance.

"Please don't tell me you're a horror junkie," Kisame murmured into Itachi's hair while wrapping his arms around his shoulders, "I'm not gonna lie, gore makes me real fuckin' squeamish."

He busied his hands by picking up a DVD case to turn it over and pretend to read the summary, "Japanese horror doesn't contain much carnage, like western media does," Itachi hummed, "They still understand that horror isn't about making your audience vomit."

Kisame groaned but, before he could protest, Sasuke made a small, triumphant noise in the back of his throat and plucked a magazine-looking book off of the rack.

"This is fucking _amazing_ , oh my god."

Both men looked over to see what was eliciting that level of enthusiasm from Sasuke, who looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Kisame asked.

The thing with Sasuke was that he didn't necessarily smile, in the conventional sense. When his lips were curved upwards, he was usually smirking or about to sneeze – no, Sasuke smiled with his eyes.

His eyes were practically _glittering_.

"Have you ever played _Fatal Frame_?"

They both shook their heads, and Sasuke's expression turned cartoonishly offended, "I'll send you links to emulators. They're _amazing_ ," he held out the book, "This is one of the more hard-to-find guides. They released a normal version, a fast version, and the perfect run guide, and this is the perfect one."

Itachi nearly dropped the guide when it was thrust into his hands. The title read _Project Zero III: The Tormented_ , and featured a young Asian-looking woman standing in a lake with paper lanterns floating around her. In the water was the reflection of some tattooed woman and, upon flipping through the pages, Itachi got the idea that the reflection was a ghost that was the main antagonist.

"You take pictures of ghosts?" Kisame sounded a little annoyed that he couldn't read the Japanese text.

"Your weapon is a special camera that was created by a folklorist that had a passion for the supernatural," Sasuke pointed at an image of what seemed to be a combat screenshot, "When the camera charges up, you take a picture. It seals their spirit to the film."

Kisame hummed, "So it's like how some people think that taking a picture steals your soul."

He nodded enthusiastically, "The entire story is like a creative take on warped Shinto rituals, too. Seriously. Itachi. You'll love it."

Itachi's lips twitched upwards as he flipped to another page, using his free hand to poke at Sasuke's forehead, "Alright, I believe you." His tone was nearly placating, but it really did seem interesting; if nothing else it had a very unique aesthetic that appealed to him.

"Mkay, I'm gonna go buy this, then I wanna get some food," Sasuke snatched the guide back and disappeared.

Kisame's chest rumbled with his laugh, "Man, for a kid that always looks like he's got a stick up his ass, he sure does get excited over little things."

Picking up a handful of DVDs, Itachi turned around in his arms to press a kiss to his collar – the only place he could reach without trying, "Sasuke's a good kid. He simply gets lonely, and tense."

" _You're_ tense," one of Kisame's large hands began rubbing at the stiff muscles along his spine, "Jesus. Remind me to work on your back tonight, or else that plane'll wreck you."

Itachi groaned, "Don't remind me." They left for Austin the next day, which meant the pressure was going to be on for him to perform during his first game with one of the biggest brands in competitive gaming.

Kisame's thick arms squeezed him tight, "We'll do great, babe, don't even worry about it."

"Two weeks isn't enough time to practice with a new team," he grumbled into his chest. Most teams had at least a month to get a good feel for each others' play styles before going to even a minor event, never mind a qualifier for a major. "Also…" Itachi turned his face up, "What happened to keeping things under wraps until after DreamHack?" That kiss wasn't exactly subtle.

He shrugged, "Reassuring you was more important than that."

Itachi bit at his smiling lips.

"You sure gave Suiren a story to tell her classmates, though," Kisame kissed the top of his head with a chuckle, "I don't think anyone's every mistaken us for a couple before."

He groaned again, "I am so sorry. I don't know why I jumped to conclusions like that."

"Me, neither. But, for future reference," Kisame pulled back enough for a kiss, "I only like dick."

Sasuke cleared his throat loud enough to rival a chainsaw.

"Well that was an _enlightening_ moment," he drawled, "If you two can stand to _not_ start fucking each other in the grass, I'm going to go get some xiaolongbao."

Itachi's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he nearly shoved himself away from his boyfriend to turn questioning eyes onto the teenager.

Sasuke's lips twisted into a knowing smirk, "You're free to join."

It took less than three minutes for Itachi to buy his movies, drop them into the same bag as his tea containers – his good deed of the day was decidedly that he didn't needlessly waste the extra plastic – and find himself being seated in what appeared to be the largest tent at the festival. Each corner seemed to be occupied by groups serving different dishes. One was cooking what looked like pho, one was serving what looked like mandu, another had shawarma and what looked like baklava, and in the corner closest to them was serving what was easily Itachi's favorite form of dumpling known to man.

They ordered four kinds, pork, chicken, green squash and shrimp, and some sort of crab and roe variant that Itachi never had the chance to try before.

"You remember that place we went to during IEM Shanghai?" Sasuke asked as one of the volunteers came by with an appetizer of spicy fried radish. When Itachi nodded around a mouthful that threatened to sear his mouth, he continued with, "The fan that got a picture with us actually works with her parents at a Chinese place not too far from here," Sasuke pointed at an older couple that slipped in through an opening in the tent with bamboo baskets, "Those are her parents."

"What a coincidence," Itachi watched them slip back to their cooking area after handing off the food to a teenaged boy, "Is she here?"

Sasuke shook his head, "They always have her watch their place during these events."

He frowned. That was a shame, Itachi always loved being able to meet fans outside of meet and greets – so long as they weren't creepy, which happened a lot more often than he'd like.

"You wanna go some time?"

"Of course, she was pleasant enough," Itachi answered almost immediately, "I wouldn't mind actually being able to sit down and be able to have a legitimate conversation with her, especially once the post-season roster shuffle begins."

Sasuke's expression softened, "She's practically an analyst in her own right. It's amazing how much one person can know about competitive gaming – and it's not just _Shippuden_ , either, it's like she knows everything."

"What was her name?"

"Tamao –"

Both of their phones began to vibrate at once, pulling their attention away from each other. Once Itachi fished his from his back pocket he saw that there was an Instagram post with both him and Sasuke tagged in it.

_i finally get why Mist_SnowSpring complains when me and Mist_SeverSword started talking in tongan,_ was the caption for a video of the two former Uchiha players chatting in what was most certainly not English. It was such a habit between them, with everyone in their former organization either being from Japan or being the children of immigrants, that Itachi honestly hadn't even realized what they were doing.

Sasuke, however, seemed more irritated that he was being filmed and shot Kisame a sharp look while popping the last of the radish into his mouth.

Thankfully Kisame was spared from the teenager's wrath because, just a moment later, the boy from earlier approached their bench with stacked steaming baskets. After unstacking the baskets to reveal about forty dumplings, the boy set down a small bowl full of ginger sliced into very thin matchsticks.

"So… What exactly is this?"

Itachi broke his chopsticks apart with an almost childish-glee, "Soup dumplings. Have you ever had them before?" When he was given a rather sheepish shake of the head, he grinned and picked up a soup spoon to drop one of the pork dumplings into it.

"Basically, you just take your chopsticks and tear open a little hole in the bottom for the soup to fill the spoon," he explained while providing a demonstration, "Then, drink the soup, and wait for the rest to cool down before eating it normally."

Kisame looked lost, "How do they get the soup in there?"

Sasuke scoffed as he reached for the bottles of rice wine vinegar and soy sauce.

"They use a gelatinizing process to mix it with the meat, then they wrap the skin around it," Itachi could hardly speak, he was salivating so much, "Once the cooking process begins, the soup melts back into a liquid."

Watching Sasuke place some of the vinegar and soy sauce-soaked ginger over his dumpling, Kisame gave the assortment of food a sidelong look, "Why not just put the dumplings _in_ the soup? This seems like… A _process_."

"A fucking _amazing_ process," Sasuke murmured into his spoon.

Itachi hummed in agreement, too impatient to explaining the different types of dumplings as he finally bit into his.

Now, he was known to have a pretty aggressive sweet tooth. Itachi didn't like spicy foods, or foods that were especially bold in flavor, because he preferred foods that were subtle or 50% sugar. The first time he ever tried xiaolongbao, it was in Shanghai and he was absolutely sure that he would never be able to eat any other form of dumpling ever again, because this was clearly the most superior form.

As his teeth sunk through the doughy outer layer, and the warmth of the leftover broth spread over his tongue in tandem with the sweet, salty flavor of the ground pork, Itachi was reminded exactly why he came to that conclusion.

So soft, so tender, so perfect in _every way…_

"Babe, are you crying?"

Eyes he hadn't realized were closed snapped open to see Kisame giving him a rather amused expression. With his mouth too full to deny it, Itachi ignored Sasuke's simpering and blinked away the moisture that clung to his lashes.

"Kisame, you don't understand," he reached out with his chopsticks for another dumpling, "This is…"

"He tried to make us get this _three times_ during IEM Shanghai," Sasuke said around a mouthful of food, "Pretty sure he'd give his left nut for a lifetime supply of it, too."

He would give _both._

* * *

"Man, I wish I bled ketchup like that."

Itachi rolled his eyes.

The fingers kneading the back of his neck slid down to between his shoulders, "Do you think his jizz is marshmallow fluff, too?"

"You're so obnoxious," he snorted, eyes sliding shut.

"What was that?" Kisame applied more pressure to the tense network of muscles in his back, snickering when Itachi groaned and melted into the floor, "Yeah, thought so."

Itachi said nothing, too relaxed to bother with complaining.

"When we get back I'm going to the craft store to get you that swear jar. I'll even paint it all pretty and shit."

They were watching one of the movies Itachi picked up at the festival, Marebito, and about fifteen minutes into the story it seemed that Kisame got bored and practically dragged him to the floor so he could massage his back. Since then, Kisame made it a point to point out how low-budget the effects were.

"I'm beginning to suspect that you're trying to project a humored attitude towards this to cover up the fact that you're actually on edge," Itachi hummed.

"Me? Scared?" His tone was haughty, but there was an undercurrent of tension in Kisame's voice as his fingers twitched.

The corners of Itachi's lips twitched upwards despite the bloodcurdling scream that came from the television, "Kisame, do horror movies _frighten_ you?"

Kisame's only response was to grunt.

Oh, this was just _too_ good.

As much as the voice in the back of his head screamed to just lay there and appreciate the fucking delicious feeling of Kisame's hands rubbing away the pain and hurt, Itachi rolled over so that he was lying on his back and able to see the disgruntled expression that Kisame was peering down at him with.

"Kisame "Samehada" Hoshigaki, the two hundred fifty-pound badass that drives ostentatiously expensive vehicles and proves his badassery by punching holes into his head and carving designs into his skin…" he smirked, "Is afraid of little Japanese girls covered in ketchup?"

His frown deepened, "We're gonna talk about everything wrong with that _entire_ statement in a second, but, yeah, these movies are fucking scary as shit – look at that!" Kisame gestured at the TV where the main character was feeding blood to the supporting female, "That's horrible – who wants to _think_ about that?!"

Itachi rolled his eyes again, "I can assure you that you would be quite hard-pressed to find people who watch horror films because they _enjoy_ the idea of being slaughtered for the purpose of being fed to supernatural beings."

"Then why the hell do you enjoy this shit so much," Kisame grumbled, hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his waist when Itachi pushed himself into a sitting position. You would be hard-pressed to find a moment when the two were together and Kisame wasn't finding some way to put his hands all over his boyfriend.

"First of all, I am not one of those junkies that gets off on watching on-screen characters get brutally murdered," he poked one long finger into Kisame's chest, "Second of all, there is nothing interesting about romances that feature a some smart-mouthed female lead, or lazily-written comedies that thrive off of toilet humor."

Kisame made a face, "So you default to creepy bitches in the hall?"

"Stop _swearing_ ," Itachi bit his jaw playfully, "You're such a _barbarian_."

"Maybe I'll take you back to my cave and show you just how barbaric I am."

He snorted, but tilted his head back when Kisame pulled him in closer to kiss his neck, "Barbarian and caveman are not interchangeable terms, chief."

"Whatever," Itachi heard him mutter against his skin. He could feel his lips stretch into a grin as they skimmed along the underside of his jaw, coming up to seal over his, and Itachi couldn't help but return it with a smile of his own.

Kisame's tongue fluttered over the seam of Itachi's lips, which parted invitingly for him; he wasted no time in dipping into his mouth, teasing and flicking the tip of Itachi's tongue with his own. Itachi's eyes slid shut as he allowed himself to go limp in the arms that held him close to Kisame's chest, and he reveled in the softness of the lips that worked in a rhythmic motion against his.

Slowly, Kisame crawled over his body until they were both horizontal, one arm still holding Itachi's shoulders while his other hand repositioned itself to nestle into his hair. Itachi slid one leg out from under him to wrap it around one of Kisame's thighs as his hands cupped both sides of his jaw. He tugged his face a little closer so that their noses were bumping against each others' cheeks, and caught Kisame's lip between his teeth to suck at it daintily.

A shiver ran down his spine when he groaned into his mouth – a low, gruff sound – and tightened the hold he had in Itachi's hair. Kisame tilted his head back to expose his neck and, after one more long, lush kiss, pressed his lips against Itachi's racing pulse.

Itachi's hands skirted over his shoulders to wrap around his biceps while his back arched upwards, a soft gasp passing through his lips at the sensation of Kisame's sharp teeth nipping at the soft flesh of his neck, right before his tongue flitted out to soothe away any pain even as the skin reddened beneath his mouth.

"Are you okay?" he breathed, dragging his lips down to suck at the hollow of Itachi's neck.

It took him several seconds to process that Kisame had even asked a question and, after a few more moments of releasing breathy, abortive noises, Itachi managed to manage to whisper, "Y-yes…"

With a quiet chuckle, Kisame dropped his hand from Itachi's hair to the thigh that was wrapped around his own, hiking it up to his waist before sliding his hand back down to firmly mold itself against the outline of Itachi's hip. The suddenness of the change startled Itachi, and a surprised sound got caught in the back of his throat as his cock twitched, "Kisame…"

Finished sucking and nipping at his neck, Kisame groaned and lifted his face back up to cover Itachi's. His kisses were firmer now, and Itachi could feel his breath puff against his face as he grew more excited. He wasn't even really sure who moved first, but suddenly their hips were rolling against each other and _holy fucking shit_ his eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack as his brain cells began to shut down one by one. One of Itachi's hands slipped downwards to hold Kisame's waist for extra leverage in time with Kisame's hand tightening on his hip, and he moaned unabashedly into the mouth that was quite possibly literally stealing his breath away.

Kisame's breaths began to grow ragged, and he made small, gruff noises every couple of seconds whenever Itachi would reposition the fingers that were biting into his waist, or whenever he rolled his hips a certain way. He could feel Kisame's growing erection, hot and hard, through the denim of both of their jeans and he would probably have been embarrassed over the noticeable size differences if his toes weren't curling because _fuck_ he couldn't remember the last time he felt this good. Every movement between them was like an individual dose of adrenaline, and Itachi was pretty sure that he was going to die if his heart didn't slow down by the time he managed to wedge his other leg out from under the immense weight of Kisame's body pressing down at him so he could wrap both of them around Kisame's waist as he was, for all intents and purposes, being humped into the floor.

A hoarse, animalistic groan tore its way up Kisame's throat when Itachi's ankles locked over his back, and their kisses turned into something that wasn't much more than a sloppy exchange of saliva and breath as their tongues twisted around each other. Itachi didn't even care at how gross of a display it was, because there was a familiar tension coiling in his belly and his head was spinning and –

The hand Kisame had on his hip moved to hover over his crotch, and began to fumble with the top button of his skinny jeans.

It was enough to bring Itachi's brain back online as his heart came to a screeching halt, and his stomach twisted painfully in time with his fingers tightly gripping both of Kisame's wrists.

"Wait – stop – wait, _wait_ – no – wait!" his tone was panicked as he all but shoved his teammate back, "Kisame, stop – _please_ – _stop._ "

Most of his pleads were needless, as Kisame allowed himself to be pushed away and was already climbing off of Itachi the second the first "Wait" passed through his lips.

"Alright, baby, relax," Kisame's blue eyes were sharp and full of justified worry as he peered down at Itachi while panting and trying to catch his breath, "We can stop. I won't touch you. I-I'm sorry."

Words clumped in the back of Itachi's throat like some shitty comedy gag of too many people trying to fit through a doorway, and he just stared at his hips in silence. He could only just barely manage to gather enough wits to wipe the back of his hand over his lips, which were swollen and glistening with spit that extended out to his cheeks and most of his chin, and Itachi could practically _hear_ Kisame begin to vibrate with a tension that threatened to snap every one of his ridiculously developed muscles.

It took them both a couple of minutes for their breathing to even out, and Itachi's heart finally slowed to a pace that didn't make him wonder if he was going to leave this room on a stretcher. It gave him enough time to think and sort out his thoughts but it only seemed to put Kisame more on edge with every passing moment.

"I'm okay," he finally murmured, rubbing at his face with his palms, "You didn't hurt me."

Kisame didn't move. His jaw flexed, "Itachi, I'm _so_ sorry. I wasn't thinking – I got caught up in the moment, and I didn't ask to touch you, and I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Itachi didn't need to look from the ceiling to know that Kisame felt like a piece of shit. He could hear it in his voice and in the way his breathing shook with stress. After taking a deep breath to brace himself, he managed to get into a standing position so he could crawl onto the king-sized bed that was just barely long enough to accommodate Kisame's enormous body.

"Come lay with me," he offered a weak come-hither gesture with the hand that wasn't currently slipping under a pillow to support his head.

There was a moment where Kisame hesitated, as if he was genuinely too afraid to move, lest he send Itachi into full-blown hysterics, but, after some sort of internal struggle that made his forehead crease, he pulled himself over the edge of the mattress and laid down rather stiffly. With the very clear and distinct line between them Itachi felt like someone had drawn the 38th parallel down the center of the mattress, and he wondered if he was supposed to be North or South Korea.

Anyone else would probably be grateful for a boyfriend that was as considerate as Kisame was, but Itachi found himself a little irritated when he had to pull Kisame's arm over his waist, and he _still_ didn't hold him. He could see in his stupidly beautiful eyes, which were tight around the edges, that he _wanted_ to touch Itachi, that his need for physical contact was at an all-time high because he needed that kind of comfort, but Itachi could literally _feel_ his arm lift up so that it was mostly hovering over his body.

"I am not a Riedel wine glass, Kisame," Itachi's hooded eyes blinked slowly and deliberately, "I won't shatter under your weight."

When his eyes darted away, his mouth setting into a hard line, Itachi sighed and scooted up on the bed so that their bodies were pressed flush. Kisame looked simultaneously surprised and anxious when he wriggled both of his arms around his shoulders and rolled onto his back, effectively pulling him with him so Kisame was somewhat sprawled over Itachi's body, but didn't pull away. Instead, he just readjusted himself so that he was curled around Itachi's body as to not suffocate him, nestling his face into the hollow of Itachi's shoulder.

"Kisame, I'm sorry for startling you," Itachi pressed a kiss to his forehead and didn't pull away until he felt his brow begin to relax, "But it wasn't your fault, not at the root of it all." A pause, "Please don't withdraw from me."

Kisame exhaled sharply through his nose before finally allowing himself to relax enough for his arms to circle Itachi's slim waist.

"Did you think I was going to hurt you?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"No, no, of _course_ not," he answered honestly, pulling back enough to look him in the eye, "Kisame… I trust you - I _honestly_ do."

Kisame practically deflated in his arms, "Then… Tell me what happened, baby. _Please_."

Itachi let his head sink back into the soft pillow, one of his hands trailing up the back of Kisame's neck so he could card his fingers through his blue hair with a heavy sigh that wasn't because of the physical weight on his chest.

"I don't want to delve into specifics right now," Itachi started, "But… Do you remember when you asked me if the last man I was with was a bad guy?"

Kisame nodded silently.

"You were initially going to ask if he raped me, weren't you?"

The arms around his waist tensed, and Itachi could feel Kisame's heart rate speed up through the fabric of their shirts. Another subtle nod.

"He did. Over the course of eight months, two weeks and four days."

One of Kisame's legs wrapped around his so he could snuggle closer. In just that little movement , Itachi could _feel_ his heart break in two. The worst part was that he was pretty sure Kisame was more distraught over the betrayal than he had been.

Maybe Itachi was just too emotionally deadened at the time to care.

He tilted his face down to press a brief kiss into Kisame's hair, because Kisame's shoulders were shaking and Itachi was pretty sure that he was going to start crying like Shisui did.

Then again, Shisui found things out under violently different circumstances.

"What happened... It had _nothing_ to do with you," Itachi reiterated slowly, "Please, understand that. I meant what I said the other day at the gym," he tightened his arms in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, "What just happened wasn't because of you. You make me feel safe, Kisame. Safer than I've felt in a long time."

Which was absolutely terrifying in its own right, but they would deal with that later.

"That's... That's good," Kisame straightened his back so he could nuzzle Itachi's cheek, "I know it's still really, _really_ , early, but you have _no idea_ how happy that makes me…" he somehow managed to push himself up onto his elbows without peeling himself away from Itachi's body which, under any other circumstance, would be very impressive, "I care about you, Itachi – probably a lot more than I should. I want you to feel safe. I want you to be able to trust me."

Itachi's chest swelled, and he smiled warmly – a direct contrast to the disquieted expression Kisame wore – while tracing the outlines of his face tattoos with the tips of his fingers. As intimidating as all of his ink and piercings were before, he was beginning to find them almost endearing. Itachi especially liked the way that some of the outlines were raised a little from scar tissue, or some of the colored parts - did it count as colored when it was solid black? Itachi had no idea - were a little softer than the rest of his skin, which was probably not a _good_ thing in reality but he didn't really care. He just really liked touching Kisame.

"You know I'd never, _ever_ hurt you... I'd _never_ push you into doing something you weren't okay with."

"I know," Itachi murmured, trailing his fingertips down to his sharp jawline.

He did.

He truly, honestly did.

"I want to kiss you," Kisame murmured, voice raw and his eyes full of a million and one thoughts that went unsaid, "Is that okay?"

Had he the proper frame of mind Itachi would have probably rolled his eyes at the specific word selection. Instead, Itachi just reveled in the warmth and security of the arms that caged him, and pulled him down with both hands so that their chests touched.

"Please do."

Kisame's lips were gentle.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you aren't familiar with esports, or sports in general, the first half of this is probably going to be confusing. I'd explain more on how casting and post-game analyzing works, but that would be a reeeaally long note to add. I suggest tuning into the LCS or a CS:GO event on Twitch if you get the chance, if you're more than just a little perplexed. Anyways, the breaks in this chapter are just perspective changes from the casters/analysts to Itachi's POV. I thought it would be fun to try but I get that it came off a little clunky. It won't be a regular thing, though, since the story isn't entirely focused on tournaments and gameplay.

Itachi wasn't necessarily a difficult person to please, but he wasn't someone that found great pleasure in little things. His enjoyment of most things was passive, and calm, and it wasn't often that he found himself fighting the urge to grin ear to ear. In a way, Itachi envied people like Shisui and Kisame, who wore their hearts on their sleeves and flashed toothy grins at even the prospect of going out for ice cream.

There was one thing that would always bring a smile to his face, however.

Itachi sat with his legs crossed in the players' lounge, his eyes glued to one of the television screens. His phone was in his lap with the Instagram app open, still on the edits screen where he had been adding a filter to his selfie with Konan, but at the moment all of his focus was being concentrated on the screen, his teeth biting down on smiling lips.

The cameras were panning over the audience as they waited for the intermission to come to an end. Rogue just knocked the snot out of Clan Nara, so the production team was still setting up their equipment while the hosts were taking a short break before the grand finals.

_Good luck, Susanoo_ was written on a sign that was being held up by a young man wearing an Akatsuki snapback that matched his t-shirt. A few rows over was a cartoon of Deidara drawn on some white poster board. He was holding a transgender flag in one hand, and a controller in the other, and the word _Represent_ was written beneath him in colorful bubble letters. There was also a sign that cheered on Hidan with some joke that ended in kappa. The other Akatsuki fans in the crowd that Itachi could see were wearing t-shirts and hoodies, and began to cheer when one of the two hosts started talking about the upcoming match.

Even over the audio from the televisions, some airing news broadcasts while another was showing a documentary, Itachi could hear the cheers that echoed through the halls of the stadium.

Support was something he never felt back home – he was always only being urged to perform better, even if he was as far as his glass ceiling would allow him to go. It was a lonely childhood, and it was an even lonelier adult life once he was dropped off at the airport by his father.

But these people… These people didn't personally know him. They were total strangers, and they only knew him as the person he was on streams and in interviews. They didn't know any of them and they were still wearing their jerseys and buying tickets to watch them from a faraway seat in a giant stadium. His own _parents_ didn't attend his _piano recitals_ , but these complete _strangers_ were standing up in their seats and _cheering_ as they walked in a single-file line out of the backstage area.

His own parents skipped out on the fundraising event he organized in high school, but these unfamiliar faces were clapping and waving signs and attending this event just to watch him play a _video game_.

And that's why he was smiling bright enough for his cheeks to ache by the time he sat down at his station. Itachi didn't normally get too excited over much, but he was on cloud nine listening to the crowd cheer for them.

* * *

"I actually have to agree, my money's on Rogue for this matchup."

Kotetsu tried not to look positively scandalized, "You're _serious_? You're talking about the guys that took _second place_ at Worlds this year – you think that an orgless team that was formed three months ago can stand up to that?"

Next to him, the other analyst shrugged, "You have to remember that this _isn't_ the same Akatsuki we saw three months ago," Raido motioned at the monitor that was built into their desk, "More importantly, this isn't the same _Susanoo_ we saw at Worlds two years ago. I don't think they've had enough time to build the kind of synergy that they need to qualify for the Stockholm Major."

"Even so, you can't deny the fact that a large part of his recent struggles is because he was stuck with a team that, to be perfectly honest, didn't belong together," Izumo fiddled with the pen in his hand, "Now that he's back on a top-tier team, I think that we're about to see a major comeback for his career."

"My main concern is that the support position is critical for a team's success," Ebisu added, "They're all important, yes, but it's the _support_ that can spell a complete wipe during that final push, or an ace that wins them the game," he gestured towards the stage, "We saw Susanoo start to slip even before he left Team Anbu, so there's a strong possibility that he could drag a perfectly good team down with him as he struggles to adapt to a brand new environment."

Raido's expression curled inwards, "That's harsh, but we'll have to wait and see because now it's time to take this to the casters' desk," he turned towards the camera, "We'll see you after the game. For now, it's time to watch Rogue versus Akatsuki eSports."

The camera began to pan away, and then it was replaced by the video feed of Anko Mitarashi and Genma Shiranui, who both winked their hellos.

"That was probably the most polite way I've ever heard anyone call someone trash, Ebisu, you savage son of a bitch," Anko grinned, "Welcome back, ladies and gents, to the final match of the day, Akatsuki eSports versus Rogue. Rogue's been performing pretty well so far, having taken all of their matches three-oh, but I want to hear what you think, Pumpkin."

Genma's eyes flashed under the bright lights, "As long as you don't ask me what I think about the fact that your shoes are off under the desk, I'll tell you anything you want."

Anko's eyes rolled.

"Honestly, I think they're not giving the rest of the team enough credit," he turned and leaned his elbow on the desk, "They flubbed their first game, but they turned things around against Clan Nara. Akatsuki's more than just _one_ rusty kid."

With a shrug, Anko looked down at the monitor in their desk with a smirk, "I guess that's to be expected from the guy that's got the hots for their DPS."

"I've got the hots for _shut the hell up_ ," Genma laughed.

"Anyways, it looks like both teams have been dropped into the arena and have started game one, and we can see that Curse and C4 are wasting no time in farming those bots over in the southeast corner."

"That's one thing I've always thought was what made matches with them fun," he noted, "They're an aggressive team when it comes to farming and building their resources, but they never rush with their pushes across the map. They orchestrate everything perfectly."

Anko nodded, eyes glued to the monitor, "But it looks like DancingStrings is _already_ trying to scope out Samehada?"

Genma frowned as he watched Kagura's character dash across the map to where Kisame was duking it out against one of the beefier NPCs, "Looks like she's going to try and force him into a handicap by taking away his free respawn early in the game – Samehada doesn't even see her coming, if she plays this right she'll take the kill – not even wasting a _second_ , she's already launching acid grenades..!"

Red lips pulled into an excited grin, "Samehada's _trying_ to get out of the affected area, but his shield's _already_ wiped out!"

"This was an _incredibly_ risky move but it looks like it's going to pay off – _holy shit_!"

"An _excellent_ shot from Susanoo from _across the map_!"

Genma twisted his water bottle open as he struggled to not bounce in his seat, "Susanoo's rifle rips through her shield and Samehada has the advantage as he starts _tearing_ into her – she turns to run away but Susanoo has already dropped a shield to trap her in– and she's been _cornered_!"

The DPS dropped, and the icon for her respawn popped up next to her icon, "First blood goes to Akatsuki eSports at the two-minute mark!" Anko nearly cheered, waiting for the production team backstage to make the adjustments, "Let's get a replay with their mic feed so we can see exactly what just happened."

* * *

"Hey, Kisame, it looks like Kagura's heading in your direction."

Kisame didn't look away from the NPC that he was hacking away at with an energy sword, "I see her on the mini map. Wait."

Itachi followed her movements through his scope as she crossed into their territory and sprinted across a bridge, "She hasn't picked up any reqs."

"We'll hit her once she's too close to run away. Let her think she's safe."

"Kisame she's already –"

" _Wait_."

Kagura switched to corrosive grenades, throwing one at Kisame and the other just behind him for when he tried to double back.

"Get her."

Itachi's middle finger pulled at the trigger on his controller, and her toon lit up like a light bulb as Kagura's shield soaked the damage. There was another spark, "Shield's down."

"Throw down a barrier for when she tries to run," Kisame was already turning away from the NPC, and his sword slashed across the screen and directly through her midsection to force her health bar down to the two-thirds mark.

"Running back to the req station to upgrade," Deidara said.

"Got it," Kisame knocked her bar down to the bottom one-third, where it turned red, "I'll cover you."

Itachi pulled the trigger, and Kagura's toon slumped to the ground.

* * *

"That was amazing – _this_ is what I love about Samehada as their shotcaller," Genma smacked the desk with an open palm and tilted his seat back, "He knows how to _manipulate_ his opponents and _control_ a situation. He wanted to turn Rogue's trick back on them, and pulled it off _perfectly_."

Anko rolled her eyes, but silently agreed with his praise in the back of her head, "Alright, alright, keep your hands above the desk," she looked back to the monitor, "And that kill was enough to unlock their level 2 requisitions so Samehada and C4 are already picking up their upgrades."

"Meanwhile, it doesn't look like Rogue's wasting any time," Genma cut in, "DrHakui is already running into the abandoned area to scout it out while he can, dropping a sentry ward right behind the wall where his teammate just fell."

"These are two teams that play out their early games very differently, and I think we're in for one hell of a fight, Pumpkin."

* * *

_One hour later..._

Itachi was sweating. He could feel moisture beading along his hairline and just above his hairline. The stadium lights that were beating down on them like they were a system of heat lamps hovering over a lizard enclosure, and his hands were beginning to ache from gripping his controller so tightly.

On the screen that was just six inches in front of his face, his character powerslid around the corner as his fingers were already working to cycle through his in-game menu. Deidara's health bar was already filling back up from Itachi's medkit while he began to turn to Hidan to reinforce his shields.

"Gonna overload my shield for an AOE," Kisame activated his sprint and charged into the other team's base.

"Right behind you," Itachi raced after him.

Even over the noise of the game, and the chatter of his teammates, he could hear his heart racing. He could practically taste it when it leapt up into his mouth at the sight of Kisame's overshield dropping to 0% in the first blast, and then his regular shield disappearing at the second blast. His thumbs danced over the d-pad and buttons as his fingers tapped at pedals and triggers.

A barrier dropped in front of the two while Deidara and Hidan ran around it, looking to make the final push.

They noticed the mistake almost immediately – Rogue had gotten trapped by their own NPCs near the stairs of their stronghold, and accidentally clumped together when they tried to move around them. The explosions from Kisame overloading not one, but both of his shields had all but obliterated their defenses, and Itachi risked a glance over his monitor to see the panicked expression on Hakui's expression as he struggled to recover his team.

* * *

"Absolutely _ruthless_! Curse went straight for their support, and even with Juzo throwing himself in front of DrHakui as a human shield, it doesn't seem like anything will be able to stop him from getting what he wants!"

Anko jumped out of her seat in her excitement, knocking it backwards onto the stage, "Curse destroys the only defense has with a well-timed strike with his Ultra Sword, and – _oh my god_ – C4 launches a plasma grenade _right_ in the middle of it all! DancingStrings, Beekeeper and Juzo are taken out in a triple kill, and at the thirty-two minute mark, the last member of Rogue is slaughtered by Curse in a brutal beatdown!"

Mirroring his teammate, Genma sprang to his feet and ran a hand through his previously neatly-straightened hair, feeling his makeup begin to melt from the sweat and oil that had accumulated on his face, "They can't respawn in time! _Akatsuki has done it_! They're moving in for the final push and, ladies and gentleman, they _will_ be taking out the exposed core, and they _will_ be qualifying for DreamHack Stockholm!"

"A fantastic performance from Akatsuki eSports! _This_ is the return we were looking for! _This_ is the team we remembered from Worlds!"

* * *

Itachi dropped his controller onto the desk, pulling off his headset and nearly yanking the earbuds out of his ears to fling them across the keyboard. The sweat in his hairline trickled down to his jaw, but he could hardly care enough to notice.

The victory graphic splashed across his screen, and he stared at it in shock as the rest of his team pushed their chairs back for a group hug.

He looked up at the stands, where fans were on their feet, bouncing around, cheering and chanting their team name. The shoutcasters bouncing around and screeching behind their desks resonated in his ears.

They _won_.

It was his first victory since leaving Team Anbu nearly seven months ago.

"Itachi, get the fuck over here!" Hidan called.

Turning to face his team, Itachi saw them all huddled together in a semi-circle where Konan had suddenly appeared from backstage, pride written all over her face. A smile finally broke out through his demeanor of disbelief, and he jumped from his seat to join the rest of his team, filling the empty space that they had left just for him.

As Deidara's arm slipped over his upper back, just under Kisame's, he had to fight back tears.

Itachi was finally a part of a _real_ team again.

"You all were perfect, I'm so proud," Konan was beaming, orange eyes glittering, "You guys worked so hard."

With that, they broke apart and gave quick individual hugs before stepping away from their stations to go shake hands with the members of Rogue. Despite receiving $3,000 in prize money for their team, it probably only barely covered the costs of traveling to the event, and they were clearly disappointed in not qualifying for the upcoming Major.

After shaking Kagura's hand, Itachi followed the rest of the team as they made their way up stairs to where the analysts were stationed for an interview. The stadium layout had them settled in what looked like the VIP box, and what parts weren't covered in wires and personnel were decked out in DreamHack décor. The production staff worked quickly to get them all mic'ed up and settled between the analysts in their own chairs, but most of it was a blur to Itachi, who had finally come down from the adrenaline from the match and was now ready for a nap.

"Welcome back to the analysts' desk, we are here with the entirety of Akatsuki eSports, who were kind enough to sit down with us for a post-game discussion before going off to celebrate their win," Raido shifted so that he was facing the team, "That was a pretty intense match, how are you guys feeling right about now?"

There was a round of sheepish chuckling.

"We just wanted to make Angel happy," Deidara pushed a lock of blonde hair behind his ear as he spoke, "We busted our asses for that, so it's a relief that our time training wasn't wasted."

"So, you guys must be pretty excited, this is the first year you'll be traveling together to Sweden, yeah?" Kotetsu asked.

Kisame nodded, "Yeah, every year something would always come up, where we had to sell our spot or drop out at the last minute, so we're really hoping things work out this time."

Izumo had to lean over the desk to see around the rest of the analysts, but he propped himself up on his elbows and met Itachi's eye, "Susanoo, I noticed that you were a lot less aggressive during this event than we've seen you play in the past. What was going on in your head during those matches?"

"Not to come off as haughty, but, I used to always feel like I was _more_ than just the team's support," Itachi admitted as he wiped away the drying sweat on his brow with his sleeve, "When I wasn't giving my teammates buffs, I was worrying about whether or not they were farming properly, or if they were dealing enough damage on their own – and, in a sense, they _weren't_ ," he stared down at his hands and hoped that he wasn't coming off as a complete twat, "Now, I'm on a team that I know I can rely on to get their jobs completed. That allows me to stay off the front line, be patient, and focus entirely on providing support they need. I guess, in short…"

Itachi's fingers curled around the edges of his jacket sleeves, looking up to meet Kisame's gaze, "I trust them wholeheartedly."

Through his exhaustion, Kisame's face broke out into a slow, warm smile. The deeper meaning of his words must have sunk in when Itachi's hand slid over under the desk to rest on his knee, because that beautiful smile expanded as he took Itachi's hand in his own, squeezing gently.

It was quiet, tender moment between the two, kept private only by the cover provided by the analysts' desk, but it affirmed what he felt. Itachi trusted him, he trusted the rest of his team, and damn it all if he didn't admit that he trusted their fans to continue supporting them if they found out about their relationship. It was hard to think otherwise after seeing them out in the stands cheering like that, and any sponsors that would want to pull out over it would be digging their own graves.

Itachi tried to convey his thoughts through their silent eye contact as Hidan answered Ebisu's questions about his decision to use a melee weapon over a more practical assault rifle choice. As he was explaining how they picked up on Rogue's lack of preparation for close combat, Itachi found it difficult to break eye contact as his fingers wrapped tightly around Kisame's.

They'd be fine.

He wasn't ashamed.

He didn't need to worry.

Everything would be fine.

Itachi wasn't really sure who moved first, or when he stopped breathing. All he knew was that, at some point, Kisame's face was covering his, and Itachi's head tilted back so that their lips were perpendicular to each other, and someone was asking some sort of question but he wasn't sure what it was because everything started to sound like it was behind drywall. He could hear Kisame's breath, though, as he sighed contently into the kiss, and there was the faint soft smacking sounds of lips breaking the seal they had created together.

The taste of sweat intermingled with the familiar sweet flavor of Kisame's mouth, and a thrill ran down Itachi's spine when he felt the hand holding his offer another gentle squeeze. That was actually most likely his brain melting and falling out his butt, because Itachi was clearly _not_ thinking when he brought his free hand up to run the tips of his fingers along the sharp angle of Kisame's jaw, instead of pulling away because every eye in the room, and the eyes of literally tens of thousands of people watching the livestream at home, was locked on the two men that were dipping back in for a second kiss.

By the time they had the wherewithal to peel their faces apart – which was probably only like three seconds even if it felt like an eternity of sappy slow-motion making out while the camera panned around them all fancy like – Konan's eyes had widened to a size that was genuinely worrying, and Hidan's jaw had fallen through the floor. Deidara looked more curious than anything, probably because had never been updated on their agreement to come out after the qualifier –

_After_ the qualifier.

Reality slammed into Itachi like a bullet train being driven by a pissed off engineer, and his dark eyes glanced from the camera, to Kisame's goofy grin, to the dozen other people standing in that room. Eventually he settled on meeting the gazes of the analysts as he literally felt all of his blood drain from his body.

"I am _so_ sorry, it wasn't my intention to–"

Kotetsu nearly exploded into a fit of laughter, Ebisu stared into his mug of water with flushing cheeks, and Izumo had to slap a hand over his mouth in a shitty attempt at muffling his own suppressed laughter.

Raido only looked mildly amused as he shook his head, his cheeks tinged with pink, "No, no, we're actually all out of time here, anyways. Thank you guys for coming back to sit with us," Raido turned his smile towards the camera, "And thanks so much for everyone that's stuck around for this segment of the broadcast. We're going to take it back to the main stage, where our hosts are talking with Rogue's team captain, Beekeeper."

One of the cameraman raised his hand with one finger raised, and one of the producers stood with his hands over his headphones.

"Aaaand we're off, great job, everybody," the producer declared stiffly, clearly embarrassed.

Itachi pulled his hand away from Kisame's so he could push up the sleeves of his jacket; his blood had finally returned to his body and it felt like a blush had broke out from his scalp to his toes, "I pity you, sometimes," he met one of the analysts' gazes as he clumsily tried to work the conversation past the two of them snogging on camera, "These lights are beyond sweltering. How can you survive wearing those suits?"

Kotetsu grinned wolfishly, "We strip between segments."

"I beg your pardon..?"

"Yup, we just get a bunch of fans in here, get naked, and –"

Izumo slapped a hand over his coworker's face with a pleasant smile, "I'm afraid that the heat is beginning to get to him," he said apologetically, "It doesn't help that he's already somewhat retarded."

Kotetsu shot him a sharp look that went unnoticed, and Raido followed Itachi's suit by pulling off his sport coat to fold it onto the desk, "It's really just a matter of finding the right fabrics," he explained, "Once you stop buying off-the-rack clothing, your _world_ changes. However… Kotetsu is somewhat right. We typically shed our outer layers once we're off camera."

Itachi hummed with lukewarm interest as he stood with the rest of his team. To be perfectly honest he only asked the question in the rhetorical sense – it wasn't as if he actually expecting any sort of in-depth answer that ended up prompting a debate between Raido and Ebisu over the best fabrics to wear in warm environments like this.

Thankfully, Konan saved him from being sucked into the conversation any further, "Well, thanks, guys, but it's time for us to take off."

"Oh, no, totally!" Izumo stood up so he could navigate around the table to shake their hands, "Go celebrate! Seriously, congrats, you guys knocked this one out of the park."

Raido nodded, "And be safe getting home. Traffic'll be crazy tomorrow," he reached out to pull Konan into a hug, "Tell Yahiko I said hi. It's been a while since we all got together."

"I'll see if he wants to meet up for drinks next time we're in New York," Konan pulled away to wave at the rest of the group with a smile.

Deidara groaned once they stepped out of the room, "I'm so fucking tired," he rubbed at shoulders that were tense from competing all weekend, "Tell me that I can go sleep."

"Well, we have one of two options. We can get dinner before the after party, or we can go take naps before the after party."

The blonde made a face, "But, either way, we're going to the after party."

Konan nodded, eliciting a chorus of groans and exhausted sighs from the rest of the team as they crossed the stage floor, carefully to keep out of sight from cameras that may be still rolling. Parties were great, and all, but events like DreamHack and PAX seemed to be nothing but party-hopping once the show floors closed for the day. It was a lot of meandering, a lot of talking to people you don't really want to talk to, and a lot of going to sleep at two or three in the morning when you have to be backstage at nine.

"Naps will just make us even _more_ tired," Kisame mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

"My vote is for food," Itachi lifted both of his arms up to stretch the tight muscles in his back, ignoring the ache for now, "There's a Mexican restaurant called Mamacita's not too far from here."

That was one perk of being a professional gamer – you typically found yourself familiar with big city landmarks by the end of your first year.

"So are we just _not_ going to talk about what just fucking happened?" Hidan nearly spat, "Or was I the only one that saw those two sucking tongue like a couple of bitches in heat?"

Konan shot a look over her shoulder while they made their way through the winding halls of the backstage area, "Oh, words will be had, I can assure you of that."

* * *

The door to their hotel room slammed shut behind them, and Itachi had to ruthlessly bite at his own tongue to prevent the girlish shriek that threatened to tear its way past his lips; his stomach dropped at the sight of pretty orange eyes flashing angrily.

This was it. He was going to die. Konan looked like she could go on a rampage throughout Austin, murdering the townsfolk and tearing through buildings, and Nagato had that scary cold demeanor about him that told Itachi that he wasn't any less livid than his coworker.

"What the _hell_ just happened?!"

Goodbye, cruel world. You've been a complete and total bitch, but it was nice knowing you.

"Kisame, I thought I knew you _better_ than this – explain to me what _exactly_ was going through your head when you decided to start making out on what might as well have been live television during an interview!"

Oh, come on, it wasn't as if they were making out, or fucking each others' brains out over the desk. It was two kisses. It lasted maybe five seconds. Still, Itachi clenched his fists by his sides hard enough for his nails to dig into his palm painfully, and met Konan's infuriated gaze with his own shameful one.

"This wasn't how we wanted to come out," he explained in a voice that was much too calm against the worry that clambered up his throat, "We had a plan, and I acted impulsively. I accept full responsibility –"

"What, you were so emotional that you decided to chuck _any_ sense of professionalism out the window?!"

Itachi nearly, nearly, flinched. "To be thoroughly honest, yes," he answered truthfully, feeling his nails begin to bite into the flesh of his palms, "But I understand that it's not a valid reason for behaving like that. I won't waste your time with excuses."

For maybe half of a second, Konan's expression softened, and Itachi thought that maybe he would live to see another day, but her eyes flitted to where Kisame was standing next to him, and they practically glowed with a rage that had been stewing for half an hour.

"And _you_ – sneaking around behind our _backs_ – sleeping with the _shiny new toy_ -?!"

Oh, okay, sure, let's just make it seem like he was just a novelty item.

That stung a little.

"Did you even stop for a _second_ to consider how that would make us _feel_?! How long has this been going on - how long have you been _lying_ about this!?"

The muscles over Kisame's jaw flexed, and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. It was obvious that what their coach said cut a little deeper for him than it did Itachi, if the way his brow curled upwards was anything to go by. His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but his jaw snapped shut again and he took a few deep breaths through his nose to ground himself, eyes drifting towards the floor. It was likely that Kisame didn't consider this kind of response when he decided that he wanted to keep things on the down low.

Eventually, he lifted his impassioned gaze to meet Konan's steely one, and the intensity between them was almost palpable.

"We started seeing each other the day Nagato asked me to call him about a second tryout," he answered in a cool voice that wavered only slightly with stress, "It was my idea to keep things a secret – I was worried that you might not take him seriously as a player if you knew there was something between us. At the time I thought I was making a better decision for the team... I can see now that I was wrong."

With the way flames practically jumped from her eyes, one would wonder if Konan had been born in the year of the dragon and she was taking it a little too literally. However, at that, the flames extinguished and the vehement demeanor nearly visibly cooled to an icy, almost hurt expression. "Is _that_ what you think of us?" she asked quietly, "You think so _low_ of us that you think we couldn't look past a minor concern like this?"

"What we did was sophomoric, insolent, and was a repugnant display of character," Itachi answered solemnly, "With everything you two do for all of us, you deserved better than this. I truly am sorry for how we handled the situation."

There was an excruciating long silence that was full of a tension so thick that you could almost see it in the air. It felt as if it was actually weighing down on his thin shoulders, but Itachi was pretty sure that it was just his anxiety beginning to escalate and freeze every fiber of his being.

Konan's eyes darted between the two of them for a good long while before finally settling on Kisame, who looked as if he was about to shrivel up on the spot from shame. Itachi was surprised – he didn't think that this would affect Kisame this badly but it was clear that he felt like a huge piece of shit. He must really have a strong conscience. That, or he was close enough with Konan to where the idea of losing trust with her was genuinely painful.

Off to the side, Nagato leaned against the wall in silence, eyes fixated on Konan as if trying to get a read on her. Itachi got the feeling that this was how most disputes were handled.

Eventually, she released a heavy sigh that ended with her lips doing that vibrating thing parents did when they were blowing bubbles on their kid's belly that Itachi always kind of thought was weird. Thankfully, though, her shoulders sagged in defeat and it was obvious that the worst of her anger had subsided for now. Konan pulled her hair out of its bun to comb her fingers through it a few times, shaking through any small tangles, and looked at Kisame with a raised eyebrow.

"So… Are you going to just let your boyfriend say all of the pretty words for you? Or are we getting an apology from you, too?"

Some, though not all, of the tension in Kisame's shoulders bled away at the almost teasing lilt in Konan's voice, and a small, sheepish grin broke out over his face as he shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, mom."

Orange eyes rolled, but Konan offered a placated smile and reached out to pull the mountainous man into a hug, "Yeah, yeah, come here."

Itachi gripped the fabric of his shirt as if it would calm his racing heart. He had an idea that those two would have a much longer talk in private later but, as things were, it seemed like everything would be alright. It felt like he had literally dodged a bullet as he watched Kisame's thick arms nearly envelop Konan's frame to squeeze her tightly.

"I love yooou," he heard Kisame murmur in a song-song voice against her shoulder.

Konan laughed quietly and shook her head, " _Uh huh,_ I love you, too," she stepped back and turned to Itachi, "You, too, kid. Come on."

He gladly stepped into the slender arms that were stretched outwards towards him. Hugging, or even touching, other people wasn't his thing, honestly (Other than Sasuke and Shisui, who were rare exceptions) but the validation of the situation being put behind them was calming. There had been a bump in the road, the bump was smoothed out, and everything would be fine.

"You two take showers and get into clean clothes, if you want," Nagato finally chimed in once the group hug disbanded, "We'll leave to get dinner in half an hour."

They murmured their "Okays" and waited in silence for the door to shut behind the two, before they both nearly stumbled back as their legs gave out. Itachi dropped into a nearby chair, and Kisame settled with sliding down the wall to the floor.

"Man…" Kisame rubbed his face with both hands with a chuckle, "We fucked _up_."

Itachi snorted, but suddenly felt too exhausted to actually make any sort of facial expression as he said, " _We_? This was all _your_ crazy idea."

Another laugh, then another, and then the two were covering their faces as they finally allowed themselves to go through the motions of feeling panicked, which apparently involved giggling like little kids.

"That could've been so fucking bad."

It felt as if a physical weight had been lifted off of Itachi's shoulders as he sighed, sagging into the chair he was in. "I am well aware of this."

A low laugh rumbled in Kisame's chest and, with one final heavy sigh, brought his hands from his face to reach out to the younger man, "C'mere."

Part of Itachi wanted to protest that he was suddenly way too exhausted to move; the other part of him knew that the same exhaustion would prevent him from trying to argue. He practically slithered off of the chair to crawl across what little space was between them, settling between Kisame's propped up knees and dropping against his chest in an incredibly lazy form of cuddling.

"What are you doing?" he asked around a yawn when Kisame pulled his phone out, tapping for the front-facing camera.

"Taking a picture," Kisame used his free hand to tilt Itachi's face up, "Kiss me."

A disapproving huff escaped his lips, "Really?" They just kissed on a livestream with thousands upon thousands of viewers. How much more public can you get?

Kisame grinned, "You know what the kids say. Gotta make it Instagram-official."

"It's Facebook official, Kisame."

"Yeah, like ten years ago, maybe."

Itachi blinked slowly. He always thought that photos of couples kissing were a little silly, something that only high school couples did, but there was an excited spark in Kisame's eyes that told him that this had little to do with making things quote-unquote official. Thinking back to what he had said in the bar, about wanting to be able to be open about their relationship, Itachi wondered if this was simply his way of celebrating finally being able to do things like this with him.

After another second of thought, his lips quirked up into a small smile that widened when Kisame's eyes flashed happily. Itachi could feel him practically grinning ear-to-ear when their lips met, and he'd be a liar if he didn't admit to feeling pretty damn proud of himself for being the one to make him this happy.

Because that's what he wanted; Itachi wanted to make Kisame as happy as he could be.

There was a quiet click of the camera snapping the photo. Neither of them moved for a few minutes, though. A billowing calm had settled over the two of them, and Itachi found himself snuggling closer into the delicious comfort of Kisame despite being well aware of how badly he needed to go take a shower in the room he shared with Deidara and Sasori. It was difficult to find the will to pull away when all you wanted to do was spend every waking moment with someone, just like this.

Kisame clearly shared a similar sentiment, as he dropped his phone on the carpeted floor so both of his arms could wrap around Itachi's shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. As he pressed his lips into inky black hair, Itachi's eyes slid shut in silent contentment. With the way his face was tucked into his shoulder, Itachi could feel Kisame's heartbeat in his neck, strong and steady, just like he was.

And, _oh_ , if it didn't make him feel so safe, and _peaceful_ …

Kisame's voice was soft, only barely a whisper, "You're so beautiful…"

On a whim, he lifted one languid hand to cup the other man's cheek. He slowly ran his thumb over Kisame's sharp cheekbone, gently caressing the trio of small, thin tattoos there.

"You have no idea how important you are to me…" he continued after another kiss to the top of Itachi's head, "It's kinda scary, Itachi."

Itachi didn't answer. He only used the hand on Kisame's cheek to guide his face down to meet his, bringing their lips together in an unhurried kiss. In spite of knowing exactly how he felt, having come to terms with just how much he wanted Kisame in his life not too long ago, Itachi didn't know what that meant; this was something that was still so new to him. He could only hope that Kisame understood what he was trying to say as their lips moved with one another.

To say that the day had been a rollercoaster, a series of ups and downs, would be an incredible trivialization. Normally Itachi would be sitting in the tub with his arms wrapped around his knees, using Shisui's iPod dock to play music to unwind.

When they were like this, however, with Kisame's arms wrapped around his body, their lips met in a kiss that spoke volumes of tenderness and more affection than either of them knew what to do with…

Itachi was _happy_.

He wouldn't have things any different.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this in a previous note, but at some point in the writing I messed up a bit with the age difference between Sasuke and Itachi. I think I made Itachi eight years older than him.

Itachi sighed and snapped the book in his hand shut, flinging it across the bed a with more than a little misplaced hostility. He had read the same two pages a total of five times without any of it actually sticking and, even though this was a story Itachi knew through and through, one of his favorite novels by Lisa See, the fact that he was basically just staring at the pages was only feeding his irritation.

He was bored.

Nagato pulled Kisame away a few hours earlier for some sort of promotional shoot with Corsair, apparently they were launching some sort of new line of headsets and whatever else, and Konan was out shopping with Deidara and Kyusuke because… Fuck it, he guessed. Apparently once the in-game leader was gone, practice was cancelled and everything was a free-for-all.

Hidan decided that he was going to bounce, too, though he didn't say where he was going because the last couple of weeks had been spent with him giving Itachi and Deidara the cold shoulder. Apparently once you found out that the team captain - who outweighed you by a hundred pounds - was the same kind of filthy homo you protested against on Capitol Hill when the Supreme Court passed the marriage equality law, you decided that maybe throwing around the word "Faggot" wasn't the best idea. Kisame had always been the one that intimidated him into shutting his mouth, and –

_Ohhh_ … Now it made sense why Konan called off practice.

They really needed to beat some respect into that guy. Maybe not literally... But maybe a _little_ literally.

Just as the image of making Hidan endure twelve hours of gay porn with his eyelids taped open like in those movies where the spy organization brainwashes its captive passed through his head, Itachi's phone started ringing. He had half of a mind to ignore it, not wanting to subject himself to another hour of relentless teasing from Shisui about their "Kiss Camera" – as the community dubbed it as they simultaneously made slews of gifs and memes.

Of course, _this_ would be the one time where Shisui's stupidity finally got him landed in the hospital, with his final wish to be a phone call with his number one pal.

"Hello?"

_"You're alive."_

Itachi stopped thumbing the loose thread on the seam of his pants, "Sasuke?"

There was a huff on the other end of the line, _"Don't sound so excited."_

"Sorry, I assumed it was Shisui calling to continue making jokes at my expense, and didn't check the caller ID."

_"Well, you sorta opened yourself up for it with that stunt you pulled,"_ you could hear the smirk in Sasuke's voice.

Itachi rolled his eyes, "Was there something you needed?"

There was a moment of dead air that told him that the teenager was, in fact, calling about something he required. Their last outing went relatively well, and they chatted occasionally on Facebook, so why was he still this awkward about asking to hang out?

Before he could open his mouth to take initiative, though, Sasuke made a noise that sounded like he was trying to clear his throat and asked, _"Do you know anything about formal wear?"_

This kid was establishing a pretty good track record of throwing his former teammate through a loop.

"Uh, well, I was required to wear semiformal attire for the majority of my piano recitals –"

_"So is that a **yes**?"_

Itachi slowly closed his eyes and reminded himself that Sasuke was just nervous and wasn't making a conscious effort to be rude, "That is a yes. Do you need help finding something?"

_"My graduation is coming up and we have to wear…"_ There was a pause, and Itachi could hear some sort of rustling as he grabbed what could be assumed was a paper invitation, _"Something 'business formal.' I have no fuckin' clue what that is."_

Graduation? "Aren't you seventeen? How are you graduating so early"

Sasuke scoffed, _"I signed up for an online fast-track program last year. What did you think I was doing in my room all day?"_

Playing video games, browsing YouTube and watching porn like any other teenager, honestly. "Fair enough," Itachi dropped back onto the mattress to stare at the ceiling, "Business formal is what most people think of when they hear 'three piece suit.' You wear slacks, a matching suit jacket, vest and tie. Though…" he hummed, "In a high school graduation setting, you may be safe with opting out of a vest."

Something about the whole ordeal being stupid was muttered under Sasuke's breath, and then he fell silent.

"Do you need help finding something?"

More silence.

Itachi brought his hand up to check his nails, "As it so happens, I've found myself with an open schedule for the day, if you would like to spend the afternoon in search for an ensemble."

Another pause.

_"Pick you up in an hour?"_

Itachi grinned, "That's perfect."

* * *

"So are you excited to graduate?"

Sasuke shrugged with a quasi-bored expression on his face as they picked through parallel clothing racks, "I'm just ready for it to be over."

Idly wondering how anyone would think that green wool made for an appropriate suit jacket, Itachi found himself unable to blame him for being over high school. He was doing all of the work with none of the distinct high school atmosphere of cliché cliques and clubs, which made Itachi think of the iconic line from The Shining about all work and no play.

"Are you at least happy to see your old classmates?"

"The online program is affiliated with a private high school," Sasuke frowned and gave up on the rack he was looking at to turn his attention to one with black pieces, "I'm technically a scholarship student there, so I won't be graduating as a student of my old school."

That would probably be depressing if Sasuke didn't look completely indifferent to the idea. Instead, Itachi felt cold worry gnaw away at his chest. He knew that Sasuke grew up in an orphanage – put up for adoption the second he left his mother's womb – but Itachi couldn't remember a time where he spoke of any friends or family, just people he spoke to on occasion like Tamao and Hye-sun.

Was he really so used to being alone that he just didn't _care_ anymore?

"Is _anyone_ going to be there for you?" Itachi was almost too afraid to ask.

At the concerned lilt in his voice, Sasuke looked up from a jacket he was looking at, eyebrows furrowed, "No? Itachi, I'm just walking up to a guy I've never met, taking my diploma, and leaving," he looked back down to check the tag, "I wouldn't even be going in the _first_ _place_ if it wasn't mandatory."

The older of the two pulled a jacket off of its hangar, hooking it on the wooden panel the rack was screwed into, and stepped over to stand behind Sasuke, "Here, try this on."

As he slid his arms into the sleeves, scooting it onto his shoulders with a shrugging motion, Itachi tried to push away the thought of Sasuke graduating all on his own, taking his diploma and not bothering to make eye contact with the principal as he shook his hand because it wasn't like his father was seated a ways away with pride written all over his features. He'd stop for the obligatory photograph from the professional photographer hired, knowing he wouldn't bother with purchasing the print because it wasn't as if his mom insisted that he do so. Then, Sasuke would go back to his assigned seat and be thankful for the fact that his last name was towards the end of the alphabet because it meant that he could go home soon and sit in his room like he always did.

Turning around, Sasuke let Itachi smooth out the shoulders of the jacket and tug on the hem to make sure that everything fit properly. Something must have slipped into his expression, though, because the teenager frowned and punched him in the shoulder.

"Quit feeling sorry for me," he said in a tetchy tone, "The little orphan boy doesn't need your _sympathy_."

Deciding that the cut was a little too wide for Sasuke's more slender form, Itachi helped slide it off and tucked it back into the rack. He used the time it took to pluck one off of the wall, this one specifically marked as a slim-fitting jacket, to think out his response before beckoning Sasuke over.

"I don't pity you, Sasuke," he explained quietly, motioning for him to turn around, "I just…" Itachi paused long enough to help him into the jacket, smoothing his hands down his arms with just enough pressure to flatten any bumps, pinching the fabric every now and then to make sure that the sleeves weren't too snug.

"I worry for you."

Sasuke eyed him suspiciously, though some of his irritation appeared to bleed out, "Why?"

He was irritable, impatient and had a bad habit of speaking without a filter when one as needed, but he was a good kid. Sasuke was a kid that got excited over memorabilia for his favorite video games, attended festivals, worked hard on his homework, worried about others...

And Itachi _cared_ about him. He cared about him a _lot_.

He busied his hands by checking the way the cashmere fit the teenager's waist, "Because you deserve more than loneliness, Sasuke."

He wanted _more_ for him.

There was something very, very peculiar about Sasuke's eyes, something that a lot of people didn't notice. They were unusually dark, almost completely black; at a glance you would think that they were nothing more than a darker shade of brown, which wasn't terribly uncommon in the Asian population. However... Sasuke's eyes weren't brown.

They were _blue_. The darkest, deepest blue you'd ever see in your life. Itachi never noticed until just then, under the fluorescent lighting that highlighted the almost indiscernible flecks of ultramarine, and it was almost as if his sadness had filled him so to the brim that it filled his irises, and Itachi marveled at how similar they were to his own mother's eyes - in both color, and the way they harbored so much emotion in such a stoic silence.

Already pale skin had faded to the color of a sheet of paper, his mouth was set into a hard line, and he was standing stock-straight as if an iron rod had been jammed down his spine. Everything about him looked as if he had been punched in the gut, and Itachi wondered what was going through the teenager's head.

He wondered how long it had been since Sasuke had been convinced that he didn't deserve anything - how long it had been since someone told him otherwise.

Knowing it would make him uncomfortable to keep this conversation up, Itachi reached out to pat his arm, "Move around a bit. If it feels right, we'll find the matching bottoms."

That seemed to snap him out of whatever musings he was previously trapped in, because the color returned to Sasuke's cheeks - and then some, if the pink tinge was anything to go by - and rolled his shoulders, reaching his arms out in front of his body and testing the fit of the suit jacket.

"Are the sleeves _supposed_ to be this high?" he asked, pulling a little at the cuff of one arm, which stopped just at the raised ligament in the outer part of his wrist.

"It allows for the cuff of the shirt sleeve to peek out," Itachi gestured at one of the nearby advertisements featuring a rugged-looking man wearing a navy three piece.

Sasuke made a face, "It's uncomfortable."

Itachi grinned, "You get used to it. It fits properly, otherwise?"

He nodded and, with a little help, shrugged off the jacket as an older gentleman with a tape measure around his neck approached the two. After a couple moments of explaining that they didn't need any help, despite the salesman's rather insistent nature, and that they already knew what they were looking for, he shrugged and tried not to look too dejected before reminding them that he would be behind the counter if any help was needed.

A mental note was made to mention his name at checkout.

It didn't take very long for the two to hunt down a pair of slim-fitting slacks - thankfully, by the same brand - and Sasuke picked out a burgundy tie with a matching pocket square. Evidently, the administration didn't believe in the concept of a cap and gown, hence the unusual demand of formal attire, but the students were still expected to don the school's official color. Singular. One color.

Weirdos.

A pleased smile stretched across Itachi's face when the teenager stepped out of the dressing room in the full ensemble, looking more than a little lost with the silk hanging around his neck.

"Come here," he reached out to guide Sasuke over to a three-paneled mirror by his shoulders, "Pay attention, and I'll show you how to tie a trinity knot."

Itachi's hands snaked around his chest to take both ends of the tie between his fingers, "Start by crossing the thin end over the wide, then loop it back like this, and bring it back under -"

With a snort, Sasuke stepped away and to the side to turn back towards the dressing room, "This is already way too complicated, hang on." He briefly disappeared behind the slatted door before reappearing with his cellphone, obviously biting back a grin by the time he was trotting back in front the mirror. There was a ping of the phone indicating that it had begun recording.

"Alright, so you cross the skinny end over like this, wrap it around, then take it this way..." Itachi angled it to the left side, "And wrap it this way. Then, loop it over the front, wrap it back up and over this way to tuck it under the loop you just made..." Itachi smiled at the bewildered expression expression Sasuke wore as his hands moved, "Muscle memory is a delightful thing. You'll get the hang of it soon enough," he looked back down at the silk in his grip, "Now pull it behind the bottom of the knot, take it through this loop, tighten it up, and then tuck the rest back into the neck loop." Itachi patted his chest and turned his smile towards their reflection, "Finished."

Another ding. Sasuke lowered his phone, his eyes glued to the cloth that was neatly fastened at the base of his neck. At first Itachi thought that he was simply taking in the handiwork, maybe going over the steps in his head that created each of the three sections, but after several seconds of silence he turned back to face Itachi - only, he wasn't meeting his gaze.

Instead of pressing, he poked Sasuke's forehead with his index and middle finger, "You know, if you combed this mop of yours to the side, you'd make quite a striking gentleman."

He didn't answer, keeping his gaze downcast.

He didn't make a fuss with Itachi started combing his fingers through the inky hair that framed his cheeks and covered his forehead, even though it was obvious by the texture and stiffness that Sasuke had spent a fair amount of time styling it this morning. By the time Itachi managed to get it into the classic comb-over shape that he was trying to achieve - for no particular reason, honestly, he was just busying himself - Sasuke still hadn't looked up from where he was staring at the chest of the man in front of him.

A crinkle appeared between Itachi's brows as he took in the sight. For a couple of moments he tried to fuss with the shape and angle of Sasuke's hair but, eventually, he had to give up.

"I stand corrected, just keep doing what you're doing," he joked, expression curling inward.

Sasuke's hands balled into tight fists. "Could..." His frown deepened, and he turned his face away to stare at the wall, "Do you think you could come? To my graduation."

For a moment, Itachi was too taken aback to respond. Going out to festivals, chatting online, buying clothes... They were all one thing, but extending an invitation to his graduation? That was something you did with family, not former teammates.

Once his surprised subsided, Itachi smiled warmly and gathered the teenager in his arms, pulling him close.

"I'll be there, Sasuke."

Much like their talk in the Uchiha team house, he didn't return the embrace; Sasuke only tilted his head down so that his forehead was buried in the hollow of Itachi's shoulder. His breath was uneven, shaky, even, against Itachi's skin, and when he finally responded, Sasuke's voice was so soft that he nearly missed it.

But he didn't.

"Thank you."

Itachi didn't answer; he knew one wasn't needed. Instead, he tightened his arms around the kid's shoulders until they stopped shaking.

* * *

"Do you have any tattoos?"

Itachi blinked owlishly for several seconds before turning his attention back to the shirt he held in his hands. It was a thin cotton thing with three-quarter sleeves and a wrap collar that matched the black cuffs, and it gave off a chic dystopian vibe that he was really digging.

"Why do you ask?"

"You've already got piercings," Sasuke gestured at the shiny barbell poking through his tragus, and the thin twin hoops in his helix, "And you always went with Shisui when he got new ink."

Accompanying Shisui for his tattoo sessions was exactly _why_ Itachi didn't have any work done, honestly. Sitting in a chair, or lying on a table, for six hours with a dozen needles dragging through your skin was something that did _not_ appeal to him in the slightest. And that god awful buzzing noise...

"While I allowed myself to be talked into most of my piercings by Shisui, tattoos are definitely where I draw the line," Itachi clarified, though that curly-haired goofball most certainly did try to convince him on more than one occasion to get a matching tattoo with him...

He decided that the top wasn't something that fit his usual style and hooked it back onto the rack.

Meanwhile, Sasuke had seemingly lost all interest in the sweater he was looking at, having knitted his brow in cautious curiosity. " _Most of_?" he echoed, "How many do you _have_ , Itachi?"

The older man took a moment to estimate just how far his own foot had been jammed down his throat.

Itachi chose to deflect the attention away from himself, "Why are you suddenly making inquiries about body modification?"

"My eighteenth birthday is in a couple of months," Sasuke's cheeks flushed and he looked back down at the sweater which, at closer inspection, was actually more of a sleeveless t-shirt with a hood attached to it, "I was thinking of getting one and wanted to know what to expect."

"Have you asked Shisui for his input?"

Pursuing his lips off to the side, the younger of the two made a face and moved on to the nearby wall of denim.

With a sigh, Itachi followed him, "He won't tease you _too_ extensively," he assured him, "Once he gets it out of his system, he's actually quite capable of an adult conversation." Besides, the only other person he knew of with tattoos was Kisame, and he wasn't sure if Sasuke would be any more comfortable with asking for advice from someone he wasn't familiar with.

Sasuke made a noise that voiced just how much he didn't really believe him, which Itachi couldn't blame him for. He honestly wasn't even sure if Shisui knew his real name, considering he spent their six months together calling him "Ducky" because of how the back of Sasuke's hair allegedly resembled a duck's butt.

"Have you decided on what you wanted, then?" he asked while absently digging through some skinny jeans. As often as he worked out Itachi was pretty sure he wasn't getting fat but, somehow, he was on his last pair that fit - though, to be honest, he only started out with three pairs of pants to begin with. Either way, everything was too tight in the butt.

"Yeah, when I wasn't working or doing school shit I played around with some design ideas," Sasuke slid his hand into a stack to carefully pull out a pair of jeans without disturbing the rest of the folded merchandise, "I drew it out, but a pro would probably do better."

Itachi thumbed through another stack in search for a size that looked promising, "It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."

"Well, yeah, it's gonna be on my body for the rest of my life. I don't wanna fuck it up."

He looked away from the mounds of black denim in surprise. As impulsive as Sasuke could be, and given the usual stereotypes associated with receiving a tattoo in celebration of turning eighteen, he wasn't expecting much in terms of quality. It seemed that he had actually spent a lot of time figuring out exactly what he wanted from this experience.

Itachi still had so much to learn about the boy next to him.

"Do you have an example on you?" he asked with genuine curiosity for the first time since the conversation started.

Sasuke nodded and draped the jeans over his forearm with the shirt from before to free up a hand that could fish out his cellphone. After a bit of tapping around, he handed it over to Itachi, "Here. I guess you could say this is the final version."

Once Itachi's eyes fell to the screen, he found himself at a complete loss for words.

"Sasuke, you _made_ this? All on your own?" he nearly whispered, awe clinging to every one of his words.

It looked like the perfect blend of ink sketches, watercolor, marker,and paint smattering that was still tame and elegant. A gorgeous velvet-purple coronet was perched on one of the many branches adorned with cherry blossoms, several petals scattering the scene as the wind carried them away. Despite the dark color scheme of the hummingbird, it somehow blended in seamlessly into the pale pink, almost white flowers and green leaves that clung to branches that were the color of chestnuts.

Sasuke rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, "I had to use a lot of reference material, but, yeah. Made one hell of a mess on the carpet when I knocked over my water jar..."

"This is _unbelievable_ , Sasuke," Itachi drank in every detail he could, from the subtle color changes in the coronet's feathers to the flecks of darker pink in the blossom petals, "Your use of different media is exquisite, your lines are so smooth and clean..." he finally tore his eyes away from the screen to hand the phone back to Sasuke, meeting his gaze, "How did you come up with something like this?"

Pink stained his cheeks, and Sasuke shrugged nonchalantly, a gesture that was betrayed by the fingers that were twisting the ends of his bangs as his lips pulled into a sheepish grin.

"Well... I never knew my family, but I knew that they were Japanese," he explained, "So I figured... A tattoo would be a constant reminder that not having a family doesn't mean I don't have a _culture_ \- a heritage that I belong to. Though the sakura is probably a little cliché..."

Itachi thought back to the way Sasuke's eyes were nearly glittering with mirth at the festival.

The bird... The coronet was him, wasn't it?

Knowing the answer, he didn't ask about the symbolism in the tattoo design, only placing a hand on the teenager's slim shoulder, smiling fondly, "It's beautiful, Sasuke."

Pink turned to red, and Sasuke looked shyly pleased as he batted away Itachi's hand, "Just don't fuck up my hair again, kay?" he stepped back and looked over his shoulder, "I still need to find a good artist, anyways. Do you know where the dressing room is?"

Itachi paused to slip out a couple pairs of jeans before motioning for him to follow, "They have it tucked around a corner for some reason."

The pair weaved their way through racks of clothing, politely turning away a salesgirl that wanted to convince them to buy an assortment of accessories to get two for free and trying to not feel too bad at the dejected expression she wore. Itachi felt for her, he really did. He used to work at GameStop so he was all too familiar with how pushy retail district managers could be.

Painted a garish shade of red that felt a little too much like the media's representation of a dirty brothel, the changing area was a small dead-end hallway with flimsy doors that stopped about a foot above the floor. Itachi hated changing rooms, especially ones like this where the doors were pretty much made from balsa wood and the knobs were made from repurposed aluminum cans, but it wasn't as if he had much of a choice as he slipped through and twisted the cheap lock shut.

Sasuke's voice was only slightly muffled through the cheap drywall that separated their changing rooms, "So, you and Kisame."

With his slip-on sneakers toed off, Itachi pushed his pants down, "Yeah?"

"Your coach looked pretty pissed."

That was an understatement. Pissing Hellfire and spitting tar was more like it. "We were keeping it a secret up until then," he explained, "Konan and Nagato had every reason to find themselves upset with the sophomoric manner in which things were handled."

Sasuke chuckled, "I can imagine."

Itachi kicked the denim off of his ankles and reached for the pants that he had dropped onto the bench.

"So they cool with it now?"

"When we got back in town Nagato spent an hour talking to Kisame in his office. I thought they were going to release me from my contract," Itachi admitted, bunching up the pants so he could put his feet through, "I suppose he was able to convince them otherwise."

Thankfully the fabric of the skinny jeans he had picked was made of some stretchy denim blend, as opposed to stiff jeans, because his butt definitely was different. They were the same size as his other pants so they fit his thighs and the rest of his legs normally, but Itachi could still feel the fabric stretch over his hips. What the hell?

"When you saw me today, did it appear as if I gained weight?" he asked absentmindedly while frowning at his reflection. The rest of his wardrobe fit just fine…

"Are you a fucking _girl_ , or something?" came a rather incredulous response from Sasuke, " _No_. You look _fine_."

Itachi stared disapprovingly at the peeling red paint as if the teenager could feel his eyes trying to bore a hole through the wall and into his skull; he didn't need to whip out the claws over a simple question…

After one more glance in the mirror, he decided that the pants would eventually loosen up to be a little less snug and started to peel them off until the sound of someone else entering the fitting area reached his ears. Itachi's hands froze at his hips and his eyes flitted over to the door.

Stripping down in a public setting, surrounded by strangers… He hated fitting rooms.

While resisting the urge to button the skinny jeans back up and pull off the tag so he could use it to check out and wear them home, Itachi stepped back so that his back was pressed against the cool surface of the cheaply painted wall. In his mind's eye he could almost see the mystery man walking through the hall, selecting a door, and readjusting the clothes draped over his forearm so he could turn the doorknob that hung a little loose from the wood.

Like any normal, pacifistic human being would that had literally no interest in the fact that he was standing three doors down and across the hall, with skinny jeans pulled halfway down his ass.

Why did his breathing insist on coming in short, ragged bursts, then?

Meanwhile, Sasuke had finished trying on the merchandise and was standing outside the room Itachi was currently occupying.

"Hey, you get stuck, or something?" he asked from the hall.

Crap…

Itachi couldn't fall apart. Not here, not with Sasuke waiting on him and being completely oblivious to his rising anxiety, not when Sasuke had no idea what he went through before joining Team Uchiha. He screwed his eyes shut, tightly gripping the waistband of the pants as if doing so would crush the fear of someone else pulling them away.

"Itachi?"

It took a couple seconds of struggling against the way this throat tightened almost painfully, but he eventually managed to croak out, "I'll be out in a moment."

"Alright… Well I'm gonna go check out," it was obvious that Sasuke was suspicious, "I'll wait for you out front."

Itachi wasn't really sure what he said in response. His brain refocused a part of itself on his cellphone, which was still in the back pocket of the jeans he had left on the floor. As he held his breath in an attempt at fighting against the hyperventilation, Itachi slid down the wall until he was sitting on the wood floor panels, freeing one of his hands from the white-knuckled grip he had on the pants so he could snatch the phone from the pooled denim.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

_"Well if it isn't my favorite exhibitionist."_

Itachi exhaled shakily.

_"What's wrong,"_ all trace of Shisui's teasing tone immediately vacated _, "What happened."_

On the other end of the line, he could hear rustling as his best friend distanced himself from whatever was causing the background noise. "I offered to go shopping with Sasuke," he breathed, not wanting to alert the other customer of his predicament, "I-I was trying something on… I, uh, I wasn't anticipating anyone else to arrive, but… B-but someone _did_ , and..."

In other words: I trapped myself in the fitting room.

_"Okay, Itachi? Breathe. Just focus on me and you right now. Have you started changing, yet?"_

Itachi nodded his head as if Shisui could see while he made the conscious effort to take long, deep breaths through his belly, "I was about to get back into my jeans."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, and he could hear Shisui swear under his breath.

"I'm sorry –"

_"No, don't apologize,"_ he cut Itachi off quickly _, "Don't be afraid to call me about things like this."_ A pause. _"Do you remember what we did last time?"_

Another nod, "Yes."

_"Alright, then look at yourself in the mirror,"_ Shisui instructed, _"Keep breathing just like that. There's no one in there but you, Itachi. You're the **only** one that can touch you."_

Fighting against the shame that bloomed hotly in his chest, Itachi swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from the rickety door so they were focused on the mirror that was directly in front of him. The fingers not curled around his cellphone were still squeezing the waistband of the jeans, frozen in the act of pulling them down his hips.

His hands.

_His_.

_"Put the phone down when you're ready,"_ Shisui's voice was filled with a patience that rarely ever presented itself, _"I'll be here with you the whole time. If you need to stop for a minute, just pick the phone back up and I'll talk you through it."_

Itachi nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone else entering the fitting area; his heart rate immediately rose to a threatening level. Tears sprang into his eyes and his breathing, which had just begun to even out, hitched in his throat as if it, too, was too frightened to expose itself. A tiny sound, much too small and frightened to belong to him, got caught behind tightly closed lips.

There was a sigh that filled the speaker with noise, but it was one of sadness, not frustration.

_"I'm right here with you, Itachi, just keep breathing. I **promise** that you're safe."_

There was the distinct clicking sound of the newcomer locking his dressing room door. Itachi used that as his cue. Nearly dropping the phone to the floor, he brought his other hand back to his hips and hooked his thumb under the waistband; he slowly counted down from three, breathing deeply between each number, before lifting his rear off of the floor so he could push the pants down.

The act of undressing was something one didn't normally think about – to most people, it was simply a necessary part of life. Most others didn't find themselves in a mild panic at the idea of removing their clothing in the presence of others, even if the presence was made private by thin walls and doors that rattled in their flimsy hinges.

Something so menial for such a large part of his life was now a nerve-wracking endeavor and, for some fucking sick and twisted reason, Itachi found that he was angry at _himself_ for it.

He eyes never left his reflection. He didn't look at his face, unwilling to meet his own gaze and see what was no doubt a pitiful expression, but Itachi watched his hands slide downwards, uncovering pale, slender thighs; he paid special attention to the sensation of his thumbs running over his skin.

No one else was doing this. Itachi felt _his own_ hands – _he_ was the one removing the clothes from his body, just like he did every day.

In his reflection he could see the scar that ran down the inner length of his thigh. A horrid, wretched reminder, he could still remember the smell of blood filling the air like a pungent candle –

_No._

He wasn't going to lose himself in memories that didn't need to be remembered. Sasuke was waiting on him, expecting him to have his shit together. If he wanted more for Sasuke then Itachi had to take the goddamn initiative and _be more for him._

Using his heels to kick them off, Itachi finally removed the pants. He ignored the way that the cool air conditioning rushed to meet his calves, causing goosebumps to break out over his flesh. He ignored the cough from the man two doors down. Itachi refused to pay any mind to the rustling sounds of fabric on fabric from the man three doors down and across the hall. He ignored the ache in his back that was made worse by his entire body being stiff as a sheet of metal. He snatched up his jeans and bunched them up in his hands so he could stick his feet through.

By the time the button snapped over the front of his pelvis, Itachi felt as if he had just binge-watched four seasons of _Game of Thrones_ : drained, emotionally frazzled, and more than a little shameful.

"Shisui?" Itachi's fingers were still trembling as he brought his phone to his ear.

_"I'm still here, Itachi."_

His eyes slid shut as the tightly-wound tension in his shoulders began to bleed away.

_"Are you okay? Do you need to take a break?"_

"I'm alright," he assured him, "I'm dressed."

Itachi could hear Shisui lean back in whatever chair he was sitting in and rub a hand over his mouth.

_"Good, that's good…"_

"Shisui, I..."

_"Don't even mention it,"_ was his immediate response, _"Itachi, you know you can call me for anything."_

Thumbing the hem of his shirt, Itachi frowned at himself, "I can't continue to rely on you as an emotional crutch…"

_"And you're not. There's a difference between needing me to get you through everyday things like when…"_ Shisui sighed again, _"Like when you first got away, and calling me to help you through a panic attack."_

He didn't answer. Itachi only stared at his lap and allowed the feelings of shame and frustration spread through his chest. How could he expect himself to be someone that Sasuke could rely on when he couldn't even take care of himself on his own?

_"You've only started healing in the last six or seven months, but you've already made a lot of progress. This isn't a step back, and I don't want you to be afraid to ask me for help."_

_Progress_.

Shisui read way too many online articles and self-help books about this.

Itachi pushed his glasses up so he could rub at his eyes with his fingers, "I don't deserve a friend like you."

_"Stop that shit. You put up with my idiot-ass when I was dragging you down into my pit of stupid ideas,"_ Shisui laughed, _"Like that time I Axe-bombed our scoutmaster's tent thinking it was the Eagle Scout's, and you came up with that ridiculous lie about me actually being **responsible** and collecting firewood with you."_

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, "The feces you found in your boots afterwards was more than adequate punishment."

The other man groaned, _"I never got the older kids' obsession with shit-related pranks."_

"That's rich coming from someone that used the Boy Scout equivalent to mustard gas."

_"They jacked my soda stash!"_

"Shisui, there was a vending machine at the campground's information center. You could have gotten yourself a soda whenever you wanted."

_"Yeah, like three miles away! Besides, it's the principle, Itachi, you wouldn't understand."_

He chuckled quietly, "I suppose not."

_"Anyways, you get on going with your little playdate,"_ Shisui's grin rang loud in his voice, _"I'll talk to ya later. Kay?"_

Itachi smiled and pushed himself into a standing position, picking up the skinny jeans from where they were lying on the floor, "You say that as if I have a choice in the matter."

" _Nope!"_ he laughed _, "Have fuuuuun, sugarpop."_

With that, Shisui ended the call and left Itachi rolling his eyes at the screen as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. By the time he slipped out of the fitting room and made his way to the checkout counter he was pretty sure that Sasuke had wandered off in search of entertainment, so he found himself pleasantly surprised to see the teenager standing outside of the storefront with the tip of a soft pretzel held up to his mouth, another being handed to Itachi.

"I assumed you would want the one that's basically candy," he explained a little too casually.

Itachi had half a mind to explain that it wasn't exactly an accurate description of the cinnamon sugar pretzel, but he feared that any sass would result in the offer being taken off of the table so he thanked Sasuke and accepted the treat. As he tore off a chunk of the soft dough to dip it into the provided sugary icing, Itachi pretended to not notice the way Sasuke was eyeing him warily.

"So is there anything else you're interested in looking at while we're here?"

Sasuke shifted his weight from one foot to the other impatiently as he chewed his plain pretzel, unwilling to talk with his mouth full. After several more seconds, "I'm actually ready to leave, if you are."

Disappointment weighed down on his chest at the prospect of their outing coming to an end, but Itachi nodded wordlessly and followed the teenager through the scattered Thursday afternoon mall crowd. As it turned out, it was actually incredibly difficult to eat his pretzel while walking without making a complete mess of himself - every time he dipped the tip of the soft dough into the icing, sugar dropped away from the butter that adhered it to the baked surface. Every time Itachi brought it to his mouth, the icing dripped onto his fingers or his chin. If he moved too quickly, the cinnamon floated away. By the time they navigated their way through the parking lot and located Sasuke's sedan the fingers on his right hand were completely covered in a sticky mess, somehow his thighs had a thin layer of cinnamon sugar stuck to the front, and Itachi was having to make a conscious effort to not lick his lips like a dog in an attempt at cleaning up his face.

Ever the millennial, Sasuke was less than subtle in whipping out his phone to point the camera in his direction as Itachi stuffed the last of the sugary pretzel into his mouth.

"Are you proud of yourself?"

He grinned cheekily and Itachi ignored the fact that he had the Snapchat app open as he used his clean-ish hand to fiddle with the radio knobs.

"Maybe I am," Sasuke batted his hand away, "Wipes are in the glove compartment. Get that shit on my interior and I'll make you clean it with your tongue."

Itachi made a face at the bizarre choice of threat, but made sure to be careful with his fingertips as he gingerly pulled the lever that would pop open the small compartment.

"What in god's name are you doing in your vehicle where you need baby wipes and condoms in the same vicinity as dental floss, a can of Monster, ibuprofen, and..." he snorted, "A three-pack of boxers -?"

He had all of a half second to pull his hands back into his lap before Sasuke slammed the glove compartment shut with enough force that Itachi's fingers would have probably been snapped off like a scene out of _Final Destination_.

"Goddammit, Itachi, quit digging through my shit and just clean your damn hands off before you make a mess!"

Ignoring the way Sasuke was all but shouting at him, he laughed at the heat flaring in the teenager's cheeks as he peeled open the self-sealing pouch to pull a couple of towelettes out, "It sounds like I've been missing out on quite the party in here."

Sasuke made a sound that sounded like it was supposed to be a threatening growl, but he was so embarrassed that it mostly sounded like a low-pitched whine. His fists tightened around the steering wheel as they guided the car onto the freeway, "It isn't like I'm using them all at once, fucking moron."

Itachi poked him in the side of the head, "Watch your language," he said chidingly, "I'm only making fun."

His grin widened at the comical sight of Sasuke trying to hide his pout with an angry glare. It was like watching a kitten do an impersonation of a feral lion.

"On a more serious note, though, you shouldn't store condoms in your vehicle," Itachi said while using the edge of a wipe to scrape away the sugar crystals that somehow caked under one of his nails.

Sasuke changed lanes, "But they're out of the sun."

"The sun isn't the problem, it's the heat," he explained, wiping at his fingers, "As the temperature rises inside the vehicle, you essentially begin to bake the latex - or polyurethane, in your case - over the course of several hours," Itachi frowned at how he somehow managed to get icing on his wrist, "I'm assuming that you aren't using them frequently enough to necessitate keeping a package of twelve in your car, so you can imagine the kind of deterioration that occurs over time."

That last comment earned him a sideways look as the teenager put on his turning signal.

"The same goes for the one I'm sure you keep in your wallet."

Sasuke's brow furrowed and he twisted his lips to the side in disapproval, "So, what, we pin them into our hair or some shit? Tape 'em to our stomachs?"

Itachi snorted, "I mean, if it _works_..."

Another glare.

"Why do you feel such a strong need to constantly have one on your person?" Itachi's voice had lost its teasing lilt, "If you're having sex with your girlfriend, it would be much more beneficial to simply have her carry some in her purse."

It was obvious that Sasuke was beginning to grow more and more uncomfortable with the conversation as time went on, but Itachi was less concerned with his sheepishness and more fixated on his former teammate's well being.

"I don't _have_ a girlfriend," he grumbled, "I just... I dunno, you never know what might happen..."

He commended the teenager on having a prepared mindset - something that he seemed to bear for more than just sexual encounters, if his glove compartment was anything to go by - but Itachi couldn't help but frown at that. "Sasuke, having intercourse on the fly, especially with someone you don't know -"

"Shit, Itachi, it's not like I'm boning everything that moves -"

"I understand, but listen to what I'm saying before you get angry."

Sasuke pouted, but his shame-fueled irritation seemed to deflate a little as he took the exit off of the freeway that would take them to the Akatsuki team house.

Itachi took that as his opening to continue, "You never know who has what. Even if someone tells you that they're clean, you can't truly know if that's true," he calmly explained, checking his hands for any residual stickiness, "They could be lying so they can use you to get off, or they might not even have any idea that they have something. Many people with HIV remain completely unaware of their infection for months, or even _years._ Syphilis and herpes, as well. Even chlamydia -"

" _Alright_ , I _get_ it, treat everyone like a fuckin' biohazard." Sasuke squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, and Itachi wasn't sure if he felt guilty for making him look a little scared, or if he was pleased with his warning clearly sticking. He wasn't by any means someone that approved the controlling of others through fear, and it wasn't exactly as if he was the Virgin Mary, himself...

"I'm not trying to frighten you into celibacy, or tell you that you should wait until marriage, because I don't agree with that," Itachi said coolly, "I only want to make sure that you're safe and understand the risks that are associated with sex with people you don't know," he turned to look out of the window, "Turn here."

Sasuke grumbled something about mother hens and already knowing how to get to the house, but it was too low for him to make out anything more than that. The other man idly wondered if maybe he stressed the issue a bit too much as they turned into Daybreak Creek; he didn't _mean_ to come off as overbearing...

Before too much regret could weigh him down, Sasuke was pulling up in front of the Akatsuki house and putting the car into park. With the car still in the road, albeit off to the side, he pulled open the center console to pull a thin piece of blue cardboard out.

"Here, I know Shisui left his PS3 with you," he said while handing it over. It was a $50 voucher for the PlayStation store. When Itachi gave him a look that was a little more than curious, he shrugged, "I figured I'd rather just give you a way to have the _Fatal Frame_ games, instead of just letting you borrow them."

Itachi found himself speechless for a second time that day. No one other than Shisui had ever gifted him anything before, with the exception of Kisame paying for dinner, and he suddenly felt like a bag of ass for not having anything to give the teenager in return. He could have at least offered to take him out to lunch, or _something_...

"Look, if you don't wanna try them then -"

"No, no," Itachi waved away his concerns, "I just wish I had a gift to offer in return... Thank you, Sasuke, really."

Sasuke's eyes rolled in response, "Whatever. You gonna get out of my car before someone else tries to come through?"

He instinctively twisted in his seat to look out the rear window to see if anyone was coming around the corner. When there was no one to be seen, Itachi unfastened his seat belt and turned back to face the teenager, "Would you like to come in and actually show me how to play?" Early PlayStation 2 games were more than notorious for being difficult so, while Itachi was mostly asking so Sasuke didn't think his present was being taken for granted, he would actually probably need the help.

Either way, Sasuke's expression lit up - well, as lit up as could be expected from him - and his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, "If it's cool with the rest of your team..."

Itachi almost laughed at the bridled enthusiasm in his voice, but he instead just opened up the door and started to climb out, "It's my home as much as it is theirs," he gestured in the direction of the mailbox, "Go ahead and park in the grass."

By the time the car was parked and they were kicking off their shoes in the foyer, Sasuke looked mildly impressed now that he had a chance to actually get a good look at the house.

"Damn, no wonder you ditched Team Uchiha," he murmured, "Sure as shit beats living in a duplex."

"I did not _ditch_ them," Itachi motioned for him to follow as he started up the stairs.

"Fine, ran for the hills, whatever."

Well... He wasn't _wrong_.

"I see you still insist on living out of your suitcase..." Sasuke muttered while taking in the mostly empty room he had been presented with.

Itachi sniffed, "I prefer a minimalist lifestyle."

He hummed in response and sat on the edge of Itachi's bed while watching him crouch in front of the PlayStation 3, which was mostly used for Netflix and replaying _Resident Evil 4_ these days. "So how many people even live here? This place is fucking huge."

"Um, well..." Itachi grabbed a controller and made his way back to the bed, "Our coach and analyst are married so they share a room, our manager has his own room, our community manager-slash-gfx guy-slash-managing assistant lives with Deidara down the hall, Hidan shares roomspace with our substitute, and Kisame has his own room -"

"Itachi I just asked for a damn _number_ not the team's _room assignment._ "

He grinned and offered an apologetic look, using the remote on his nightstand to flip on the television, "I believe that makes nine."

Sasuke peeled off the cover for the card's code before handing it over so Itachi could put it in, "And they're all cool?"

"Hidan has proven himself to be an insufferable religious zealot as of late, which is mildly annoying, but the rest of the team have made for very pleasant housemates."

"You talk like a fucking book sometimes, you know that?"

Itachi's lips twitched upwards, "I would rather sound like a book than a dirty trucker," he argued, submitting the code for the voucher and opening up the search bar.

Sasuke frowned, "I didn't say it was a _good_ book. You're like that boring British crap you have to read in high school and write a three-page essay on what everything symbolizes and how it reflects on modern society."

"If you're referring to _Lord of the Flies_ , that happens to be one of my favorite novels."

The look of absolute exasperation on the kid's face was probably one of the most comical expressions Itachi had ever seen anyone wear; he looked so maddened it bordered on a desperate helplessness.

Itachi smirked and chucked the controller on the bed while a progress bar began to slowly fill beneath the _Fatal Frame_ logo, "Anyways, are you hungry at all?"

Almost immediately, exasperation morphed into a slow cautiousness as Sasuke regarded the situation, "Is that an offer for us to order something, or for you to demolish the kitchen?"

"It's an offer for the frozen paninis in our freezer downstairs."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," he noted as he picked himself up off of the edge of the bed to follow the older of the two.

Rolling his eyes, Itachi sighed, "I can assure you that I am not so inept in the kitchen that I am incapable of heating up a frozen meal."

Sasuke barked out a laugh that made almost made Itachi mess his pants, "You're fucking kidding, right? Has the quesadilla incident been wiped from your mind?"

"That's it, no food for you," Itachi hummed, guiding him down the first-floor hall.

"But do we still get to hear about the quesadilla incident?"

Itachi halted just as he rounded the corner into the kitchen; he didn't even hear Deidara sitting between Sasori and Konan at the table when they entered the house, who were munching on what looked like the leftovers from the night before.

Konan speared an asparagus stalk with her fork, a smirk playing on her painted lips, "I would also like to hear this story."

For the love of god... Itachi sighed again and accepted his fate as he made his way over to the freezer, "Would you like chicken club, or..." he pushed a box of frozen pupusas away, "Spinach, cheese, artichoke and chicken?"

Once answering with a request for the club panini, Sasuke didn't miss a beat in turning his attention to the trio that was giving him their mostly undivided attention, "So Itachi decided he was going to reheat his quesadilla he got from a restaraunt the night before, right?"

Itachi rolled his eyes as he shook out two frozen sandwiches from their respective boxes, tossing the emptied one onto the counter with the mind to toss it into the recycling later.

"First of all, he doesn't even take it out of the styrofoam box -"

Deidara snickered.

"Then, he doesn't even pay attention to whatever the fuck he's doing because he's ass-deep in a Twitter fight with Shisui - who was literally across the hall in his room playing _Smash_."

Wow, way to make him out to be a total moron, Sasuke.

"He sets the timer to twenty goddamn minutes instead of _two_ -"

"Sasuke, do not think for one moment that I won't starve you if you don't watch your mouth," Itachi hummed even as he popped a club panini into the toaster oven, cranking the knob.

He didn't even look back at him, "Whatever. Anyways, he walks off to go spank his monkey or something, I don't even know- _fuck_!"

In one swift movement, Itachi had grabbed the empty Stouffer's box and hurled it at the back of Sasuke's spiky head. "You know very well that I stepped out for a phone call."

"Actually, I _don't_ know that, because when it was happening you said that you were outside playing with the neighbor's Lab."

Anther round of giggles.

Heat flared in his cheeks. Both because he had been caught in a lie, and because he indeed _had_ been masturbating - in the garage, where he had peace and quiet - and now everyone in the room was clued in on it. Itachi bit his lip and worked on preparing the second sandwich in a subdued silence.

Sasuke laughed, "Yeah, that's what I _thought_ , jerk," he chucked the box onto the counter and turned back to the laughing three at the table, "The styrofoam melts, the food literally catches on fire, and the fire department has to come put out, like, half of the kitchen."

"Holy shit, where was everyone else?"

Oh, please, someone just whip out a gun and end Itachi's misery. "Kisame, how long have you been sitting there?"

Kisame had one arm draped over the couch, the other folded over the back of the furniture to pillow his head, and was practically vibrating off of the cushions with suppressed laughter. He unceremoniously waved his dangling hand at nothing in particular, "Babe, I've been here the whole time," a bubbling laugh forced its way past his lips, "So where were the others?"

"As Sasuke said, Shisui was in his room," Itachi explained, trying his best to hide just how mortified he was at the sudden turn of events, "He enjoys using air fresheners, though, so he hardly noticed the smell. I believe Obito and Madara were out with Baru for some sponsorship meeting, and Sasuke was in the pool."

Kisame nodded and gestured at Sasuke to continue.

He didn't need much encouragement.

"So the fire department and an ambulance arrive with the freakin' _police_ , and we have to stay out of the house for, like, a _week_ because Itachi basically turned the duplex into a gas chamber of carcinogens."

Konan shook her head and buried her face in her hands, "Oh my god."

"Right?" Sasuke finally began to laugh with tem, "Hey, how many months of pay were you fined, anyways?"

Itachi pulled the first panini out of the toaster oven and replaced it with the other, "Two months for damages, one for hotel expenses, and half of another as an inconvenience fee."

Deidara hissed, "Ouch..."

"Man, Madara was pissed," Sasuke agreed, "But at least it was better than when you turned the microwave into a bomb."

Konan deadpanned, pulling away from her palms to stare at Itachi. Deidara and Sasori exchanged incredulous expressions, and Kisame promptly began to look uneasy as he watched his boyfriend crumple up the cellophane packets and toss them into the trash.

"Is anyone else suddenly really fuckin' nervous with Itachi being in the kitchen?" he asked half-jokingly.

"I promise that he is intentionally choosing his words to incriminate me," Itachi folded his arms over his chest defensively with a frown, giving Sasori a pointed stare as he continued to record the recollection of his kitchen adventures on his phone, "I can assure you that I can be trusted with most household appliances."

"Most," Sasori echoed.

"I don't even know how it happened, because there was so much damage that the fire department couldn't figure out the cause of the explosion -"

Deidara laughed, "You're kidding! It _exploded_?!"

Sasuke smirked, "He put an entire champagne bottle in the microwave and the door blew right off."

All eyes turned to Itachi, who was less than pleased with the position he found himself in.

"Babe... _Why_?" Kisame looked horrified.

He frowned, "Shisui and I were already drunk, and we wanted to try hot champagne," a pause, "It made sense at the time."

"I don't think I've seen him make anything other than frozen pancakes," Sasuke snickered, "I once watched him go through literally three dozen eggs in one afternoon trying to learn how to make them sunnyside up."

"For _you_ , might I add," Itachi said with only a mildly supercilious undercurrent to his tone, "As soon as I got it right, you only say how it could be improved." When the teenager shrugged, he added, "On the note of our _shortcomings_ , let's not forget what happened when Shisui and I taught you how to drive."

Sasuke blanched.

"Exactly three mailboxes, two rose bushes, a section of picket fencing, and two garden gnomes were annihilated by his first few endeavors behind the steering wheel," it was Itachi's turn to smirk as he rifled through the fridge for two cans of Coke, "By the time he finally got the hang of it, Shisui had to get his hood repaired and one of his tires replaced. We never learned where one of the other hubcaps rolled off to..."

"Uh... How long did you set the toaster oven for?" Konan asked worryingly while standing from the table.

Ah, _shit_.

Itachi forgot to set the timer.

While Deidara and Sasori began to cackle like a couple of hyenas, Sasuke helped himself to the roll of paper towels that were on the kitchen island, tearing away a couple of sheets and folding them between his fingers and the plate with his sandwich. There was an amused expression on his face that told just about everyone in the room that he was more than pleased with the way he had avoided a full retelling of his early attempts at driving.

Meanwhile, Konan was dropping her dirty dishes in the sink and practically sprinting over to where Kisame was trying to push himself up from the sofa.

"What do you need? I'll get it for you," she pushed on his chest to urge him to lie back down.

"You can't take a leak for me," Kisame joked, moving her hands away so he could slowly rise to a standing position.

Konan didn't look amused and kept one hand on his back, the other supporting his elbow, to help him up. The muscles in her arms flexed when the mountainous man swayed a bit, and Itachi found himself thankful that she could bench as much as she did if it meant keeping Kisame from collapsing into the glass coffee table.

Dropping his panini onto his plate, Itachi motioned for Sasuke to grab his drink and follow him out of the kitchen, "Are you alright?"

Kisame grinned, but it wasn't the same carefree smile he usually wore. It was tense and didn't quite reach his eyes, which looked tired and almost a little hazy, so Itachi didn't honestly believe him when he answered with, "Just a cold, babe."

The way Konan was looking at him didn't help things.

Itachi looked over the back of the couch to finally see an array of items strewn over the coffee table: Delsym, Tylenol, a black zippered pouch, a cup of water, stacked empty applesauce cups with two unopened ones next to them, a half-empty bottle of Powerade, tissues, sugar-free Halls, a thermometer...

He frowned at the box of alcohol wipes and opened his mouth to ask why the hell someone with a cold would need them, but Kisame had already disappeared around the corner with their coach.

Deciding that he'd question it later, when Sasuke wasn't around, Itachi let the subject die there and guided him back up to his room. By the time the shut the door behind them and parked their butts on the bed the PlayStation had successfully downloaded the first _Fatal Frame_ game, so they wasted no time in launching it from the menu.

"Do you even _like_ horror games?" Sasuke asked around a mouthful of melted cheese and bread, "I didn't even ask."

Oh, did Itachi _like_ horror games. Pushing his worry for Kisame to the back of his head for now, he finished chewing his first bite and gave Sasuke a bemused grin, "For my English literature class in high school I wrote a five-page term paper on how the symbolism in the _Silent Hill_ franchise reflects onto modern-day society."

Sasuke stared.

"You're such a nerd sometimes that it actually kind of pisses me off a little."

Itachi snorted and opened up a new save file on the PlayStation, "The menu says it's based off of a true story. I assume this is in the same sense as Hannibal Lector and Leatherface originating from the same individual?"

"Basically," Sasuke took another bite of his panini, "The devs said that the series was based off of a legend about a family that was killed by the head in their mansion that was in the mountains outside of Tokyo, but…" he paused to finish chewing, "That part was only added for the American version."

"In other words, take it with a grain of salt."

"Pretty much."

Once the game got through its introductory cutscene and he was able to move the character on the screen around freely, Itachi couldn't help but feel a warm sense of nostalgia at the control scheme and wonky camera angles. There was something comforting about how early-2000 horror games played – or, well, what was nerve-wracking for most other people was comforting to the horror junkie that felt a thrill run all the way down his spine and through his toes at the first jump scare.

In spite of himself, his lips stretched into a delighted grin.

"They did a splendid job on creating the game's atmosphere, alone," he commented, "Especially with the audio effects."

"Fuckin' _right_?" Sasuke repositioned himself so that he was sitting cross-legged, "These games don't really use music for the ambience. It's all about audio cues and sound effects."

Itachi turned the volume up a little so he could better hear the game's audio, "It's a unique development choice, given how most horror games were heavy on – oh, _cripes_."

There was the tinkling of bells, and the camera suddenly changed angles in the middle of a cinematic to reveal a young woman in a kimono standing behind the character he was controlling. Itachi tensed so hard that he likely would have been able to squeeze a brick out of his rectum, and he all but jumped four feet in the air.

Violin screeches never got to him, but subtle surprises like that were a good way to scare the daylights out of him.

Of course, just as the thought crossed Itachi's mind, there was a loud noise that almost sounded like metal scratching against metal once he navigated the girl around a corner; the camera angle changed again to reveal a man walking past.

He may or may not have made a very girlish noise then.

Behind him on the bed, Sasuke was snickering with little mind for Itachi's pride.

"I feel like this was a ploy to give me hypertension," he muttered with faux vitriol, "Am I supposed to be taking pictures of these..?" The camera this girl was toting around had to be useful for _something_.

The next couple of minutes were spent with Sasuke explaining the basic mechanics of the game, including the difference between vanishing, hidden and hostile ghosts. Itachi had to admit that the game used a lot of unique gameplay features and, from what hints he was already picking up from the documents lying around the map, the story itself was delightfully dark and convoluted. At first he didn't quite understand how taking pictures of ghosts could exorcise their spirit and bind them to the film but, once he voiced his thoughts, Sasuke reminded him that this wasn't exactly the most realistic plot.

Itachi couldn't really argue that point.

What pleased him the most, though, was watching the way Sasuke's eyes practically glittered with excitement as he explained the similarities between traditional Shinto beliefs and the perverted version featured in the game. It wasn't as if Itachi was incapable of figuring these things out for himself – some of the things Sasuke was pointing out were pretty obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to act as anything other than ignorant on the matter.

They went back and forth with playing the game, passing the controller whenever they hit a checkpoint or when they wanted to try their hand at capturing a more difficult vanishing ghost, and Itachi found himself asking more and more questions just so Sasuke could elaborate on the details of the game.

It was rare to see him this happy, and Itachi wanted to keep that spark in his eye ignited for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end. The pair camped out in front of the PlayStation long enough for Sasuke to claim that they already made it through nearly half of the game's storyline, but his team had a curfew in place during the week and he had to take off.

Honestly Itachi thought it was a little ridiculous that someone like Orochimaru would implement a curfew as if he felt like his players were people he could control, but he kept his mouth shut and didn't make any comment as he walked him to the door.

"Drive safe," he said while watching Sasuke step over the threshold, "Let me know when you get home."

"Alright, _mom_."

Itachi rolled his eyes and matched the teenager's smirk with one of his own. When he paused on the doorstep, looking a little anxious, he couldn't help but reach out and poke the center of his forehead. Sasuke just sort of blinked in surprise for several seconds, unsure of whether or not to snap or laugh, and eventually he just clapped Itachi on the shoulder and hopped off of the porch.

"See ya later, Itachi."

He didn't miss the small smile playing on Sasuke's lips before he closed the door.


	11. Chapter 10

Meetups were fun, but _damn_ were they intimidating.

Then again, this entire day was kind of off so maybe he was just being antsy over nothing.

It started out with Itachi literally waking up to a fight. Twenty minutes before his alarm was set to go off, there was a Mexican Standoff happening outside of his room between Kisame, Konan and Nagato. For the first few moments of consciousness he thought that someone had been killed, or they were being robbed, but when Itachi finally managed to locate some pajama pants and pull away his dresser to open the door, he realized that the shouting and loud noise was for a less dangerous, but just as concerning reason.

Thanks to their specific choice of words Itachi didn't fully understand the specifics, but he knew that the fight – yes, _fight_ – was regarding the cold that had been hounding Kisame for nearly a week and a half. Despite clearly being in better shape than the last few days, Konan was insisting that their captain sit out from the event and take what she called 'proper care' of himself. When Kisame noticed Itachi standing in the doorway looking all sorts of confused he dragged both of them into his room for a few minutes of muffled, yet still aggressive-sounding, conversation, he somehow managed to prove that he was well enough to go out.

Of course Itachi was still under the impression that this was just a minor cold and couldn't for the life of him understand why Nagato and Konan were making such a big deal out of it.

Still, their in-game shotcaller was given the green light to attend the fan meetup that had been in the works for three months. It was a charity event organized by Akatsuki, their sponsors, and Extra Life, and Kisame was basically acting like missing it would mark the end of the world.

Itachi wondered if that was because he refused to admit that he was sick, or because of his ingrained need to help other people, as he flashed a smile at a young girl that was next up in line.

"Love the sweater," he noted, gesturing with his marker at the Leaf Esports hoodie she wore. It was faded from its original shade of forest green, to more of a pale mossy color, the cuffs of her sleeves were full of holes and tears, and the insignia on the breast of the zip-up was almost completely worn away.

When she turned around with a shy grin to show off Shisui's pro name emblazoned across the back, as faded as the letters were, Itachi was surprised to see that it wasn't his but still felt his grin expand.

"I'm sorry, I've been following Flicker since his early _Smash_ days with SnowSpring!"

He laughed, "No, no, I'm glad to see the _Shippuden_ scene still gives him support," Itachi watched her fish something out of her backpack as he spoke, "Are you excited for CEO?"

The girl's face lit up, " _Yes_! Oh my god! I have tickets and I'm going with my friend to cheer him on!"

Itachi's jaw nearly dropped, "You're going to Orlando _just_ for CEO?"

Curly hair bounced as she nodded, "I'm going to EVO and ESL Super Week, too!"

A warm, bubbly giddiness filled his chest as she started pulling whatever she wanted signed out of her bag. "That's amazing, I've never met anyone outside of the industry that actually travels all over the country for events."

"If you guys make it to Worlds, I might actually be able to go to that, too," she declared, producing one of Mangekyo Gaming's old lanyards, "Can you please sign this?"

It was black and red, so Itachi swapped out his black marker for a silver one, "Of course. Do you want me to personalize it?"

The girl giggled, "Please! My name is Shante." As she watched him start scrawling his name down, she added, "I wanted to get this signed by the whole team when you two were still a part of Mangekyo, but the roster kept changing and it was difficult to get to you guys back then. Do you think Flicker would mind if I asked him to sign it for me at CEO?"

Itachi snorted, "Just don't let him scribble out my name. He'll do it if you let him."

"That's so mean!"

"I accidentally wrote into his signature once," he handed the lanyard back, "He never let it go."

Shante admired the signature for a moment, her eyes dancing, and then she started to look a little nervous as she met Itachi's gaze again, "Um…"

"Was there something else you wanted signed?"

"No, um…" she blushed and sheepishly pulled out her phone, "Can I get a picture with you?"

Itachi snapped the cap shut over his Sharpie and dropped it onto the table, rising from the plastic chair he was seated in, "If you tag me in it," he answered with a genuine smile.

Shante nearly squealed in her delight and turned around so she could turn the front-facing camera towards them. As she did so, though, the screen went black.

She brought her phone down to tap on a few of the buttons, presumably one of them being the power button, before making a small whining sound.

"Aw… The battery died," she murmured dejectedly.

"Don't worry about it, we'll use mine," Itachi offered, already pulling out his cellphone from his back pocket, "I'll just tag you on Instagram or Twitter so you can save it later."

"You're _so_ awesome! Thank you!" Shante's hair continued to bounce as she took the offered phone from his hands and pointed it in their direction. Both of Itachi's hands were planted on the table to support his weight, and Shante threw up a peace sign, "One… Two… Three!"

Maybe it was just the light atmosphere from meeting such a dedicated fan, but Itachi found himself grinning ear to ear and nearly giggling to himself as their picture was snapped. When he took the phone back, he motioned for Shante to stay with her back to him.

"Wait, wait, Flicker will get a kick out of your sweater," he said, pressing the shutter button once the camera had focused.

Turning back around, Shante gave him her Twitter handle and looked as if she was on cloud nine by the time Itachi made the post.

"Also, look, I just wanted to say…" her carefree smile wavered for a moment, "What you and Samehada did, coming out like that in front of all those people… It was really brave. And I thought it was really cool."

Itachi stared for a moment and fought the urge to remind her that it was actually really shitty to hijack an interview like that and divert the attention to themselves, as opposed to it being spread out between the analysts and the team. Once he got his bearings, though, he returned her smile and shrugged.

"It was nothing. We just wanted to be honest with people," he sorta-lied.

Shante seemed pleased, though, and they said their goodbyes before she turned on her heel to practically skip away, clearly happy with the way things turned out. Itachi was happy – he was glad that someone got that much satisfaction out of simply being able to have him scribble over an old lanyard and just exchange a few words with him.

When he turned his own smile to Kisame, he was met with an empty chair and a 'be back soon' sign. When he started looking around, Itachi was met with disappointment; he was nowhere to be seen.

"He's in the guest lounge, Susanoo. Take your lunch and go check on him," Nagato instructed coolly.

He didn't need to be told twice. Truth be told, there was a lot of pressure on players to live up to the expectations of their followers, especially fans like Shante, and he was more than a little weary after six hours of non-stop chatting and signing items such as prints and knickknacks. It didn't help that the plastic chair was making his butt go a little numb, so Itachi grabbed his sign and dropped it on the table before scooping up his water bottle and walking in the direction of the lounge.

The event organizers had set up a quiet, secluded room for their guests to hang out in without having to worry about being approached by fans or press. It was actually connected to the dressing room through some labyrinth of hallways that also led out to the stadium where the event was being held but, for the most part, it was generally soundproof. The only furnishing included a couple of leather couches and a bar full of unhealthy snacks and drinks, but it got the job done.

Kisame was lying on his back with one of his arms draped over his eyes when Itachi stepped into the room. He wasn't quite sure when the other man left the table, though he had an idea that it was during his chat with Shante, though it was obvious that his time spent in there wasn't doing him any favors. Even from the doorway Itachi could see that his skin, normally tanned and warm, was pale, and a heavy weight started to settle onto his chest.

Was this why Konan and Nagato were so insistent on him staying home today?

Kisame raised his arm enough to peek out at the newcomer, groaning when he saw who it was, "Ah, _shit_ …"

Itachi frowned as he knelt next to the sofa – not because of the apparent unpleasant feeling Kisame got upon seeing him, but because Itachi knew that he was trying to hide something.

"We need to have these talks," he murmured, echoing what Kisame said to him in the past.

"Yeah, I know…" the other man sighed and dropped his arm to it rested by his side, "I just didn't want it to happen like this."

Itachi didn't answer. He stayed silent so Kisame could explain things on his own time, only reaching out to stroke his blue hair, noting how his black roots were beginning to show. Now that he was close enough to see the little details in his face, Itachi noticed how his lips looked a little chapped.

"Are you thirsty?"

"I've been sipping on that," he motioned to the Pepsi bottle sitting on the floor next to the sofa.

Silence fell over them like a cold blanket. It was obvious that something was wrong – Kisame's face wasn't just pale, but a little flushed and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and Pepsi wasn't something that a health nut like him would drink if he was suffering from flu-like symptoms. Running the backs of his knuckles over his arm told Itachi that his skin was uncharacteristically cool, almost a little clammy, and the skin over his pulse was throbbing in time with his elevated heart rate.

It wasn't until then that Itachi realized that Kisame was his pillar of strength. He was warm, large, strong, kind, happy… Itachi relied on him, expected him to be the pinnacle of good health and had grown accustomed to him always being around to comfort him.

Seeing him lying on the couch like this, sagging into the cushions and looking as weak as he did… It _scared_ Itachi. It scared him because he knew that there was something that Kisame had actively been keeping from him, something that upset Konan to the point where she tried to force him to stay home instead of coming out. Something was wrong with Kisame that he didn't want him to know about, which meant that this was something bad…

Panic gripped Itachi's heart, and his fingers began to tremble as they combed through Kisame's hair.

Oh god, what if he had what killed his mother? What if having something like the flu could kill someone with an autoimmune disorder? That's what this was, wasn't it? He was going to tell him that he had inherited his mother's alymphocytosis and something like too much pollen in the air could give him a heart attack, or he was living on borrowed time and any minor fever would kill him, or he had leukemia and –

Kisame caught Itachi's gaze. His terror much have been written all over his face, because alarm flashed through his pretty blue eyes and he immediately moved to prop himself up on one arm, the other reaching out to cup the base of his neck.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

The hand in his hair falling to his shoulder, Itachi found himself reaching up to grip his forearm tightly. Normally holding onto Kisame made him feel grounded, but the cold sheen on his skin that met his fingers, instead of the familiar warmth, only made his chest tighten painfully beneath the weight of his fear.

"Please tell me what's happening," he whispered, voice cracking. It felt as if a pine cone had been rammed down his throat, simultaneously suffocating Itachi and tearing him open; he only barely managed to get the words out. He needed to know that Kisame was fine. Itachi needed to leave this room knowing that he was safe, and that this was just a bad cold, and that he didn't have feelings for a man that was going to die some sort of slow, painful death that ended in him being taken away in a casket.

Just the thought made a miserable ache form deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, _no_ , Itachi…" Kisame sighed and pulled him in for a kiss, "Whatever you're thinking, it's wrong. Okay?" he slowly, carefully, shifted his body so that he was sitting in an upright position.

Itachi quickly reached out to push him back down, "No, if you're ill…"

"I can manage _sitting up_ , babe," Kisame's voice was obviously meant to be humorous, but his delivery was weakened by the way his voice wavered a little.

He almost sounded... Angry.

Kisame reached for the Pepsi on the floor and patted the cushion next to him, "Come sit with me."

Itachi wasn't sure if he was intentionally not answering his question, but wordlessly answered Kisame's request by climbing onto the sofa to sit next to him. He tried to be patient, he really did. Itachi didn't want to make Kisame feel rushed as he took a sip of his drink, but he honestly felt like his heart was going to be crushed beneath the weight of his worries the longer the situation was dragged out.

After setting the bottle down, Kisame readjusted himself so that he was turned towards his boyfriend, one leg bent between them. One of his arms pillowed his head as he leaned into the cushions, the other smoothing over Itachi's thigh.

"I have type 1 diabetes, Itachi," he finally said once he was comfortably situated, "And, when I get sick, everything goes a little haywire. That's all."

Even if it was probably meant to settle his worries, it only made Itachi's anxiety skyrocket.

He turned the hand on his thigh over. Kisame's palms were full of calluses; they were on his fingertips, along his bottom knuckles, and the skin of his palms were just generally tough and textured. It made a little sense, but Itachi still felt completely obtuse for never noticing the way that this tip of his middle finger was slightly discolored from the cluster of hardened scars there; he just assumed that it was a strangely-placed callus…

Itachi slid his palm over Kisame's and laced their fingers together. Some things began to fall into place, especially with Kisame's obsession with not eating what he called "Empty calories" and always packing as much nutrition into a meal as possible. But, for as many questions that this discovery answered, more opened. How come he never noticed? He had never seen Kisame take insulin, or test his blood sugar, and he was always exercising like a mad man – didn't exercise mess with your blood glucose levels?

"Itachi?"

The sound of Kisame's low, throaty voice snapped him out of his musings, but Itachi couldn't peel his eyes away from their entwined hands. From that scarred finger.

"I… I don't understand," he said weakly, "You always look so healthy…"

"I _am_ healthy, babe," Kisame pulled their hands apart so he could cup Itachi's face, tilting it upwards, "All this means is that my body doesn't make insulin. It means I need to be a little more careful than normal people, and it means that I'm way more tolerant of needle pain than normal people."

It was obvious that the last bit was supposed to be a joke, but Itachi was too lost in his concern for the man next to him to feel even the slightest tinge of warmth.

"You look so sick _now_ , though –"

"Yeah, I've got the same _common_ cold that Deidara had a couple weeks ago," Kisame's playful grin didn't reach his eyes; the irritation from before had leaked into his voice.

Itachi stiffened from head to toe.

The faux smile was wiped away almost immediately. Kisame gathered him in his arms, draping Itachi's legs over his lap, and pulled him tight against his chest.

"Okay… Yeah, I actually really feel like _shit_ right now," he admitted, "When a diabetic gets sick, it's a pain in the ass to keep your blood sugar under control. So we usually end up hyperglycemic at some point. It makes me thirsty, I get tired, I have to stick myself and measure ketones every few hours, I've gotta pee like every thirty minutes, and then there are the symptoms of _actually being sick_ to go with it like the cherry on top of a shit sundae."

Itachi recalled how adamant he was about coming to the event, realizing that his stubbornness might have been caused by illness-induced irritability.

"But I don't like making a big issue out of it. My family freaked out every time I got sick because of how my mom died, and I've already got Konan ruffling her feathers whenever I get the goddamn _sniffles_ …" Kisame sighed, "I don't want to feel _weak_ , or be treated like an _invalid_ , just because my fucking pancreas short-circuited. It's not that big of a _fuckin'_ deal."

Itachi felt himself shrinking in on himself at the rising agitation in Kisame's voice, "I'm not trying to make you feel weak –"

"But now you're feeling sorry for me and second-guessing my health, and expecting me to go blind and shit –"

"No, I'm _not_ ," Itachi cut in more than a little brusquely, pulling away with a frown, "Kisame, I was thinking you were about to tell me that you had _cancer_ , or AIDS, or the autoimmune disorder that your mother suffered from –" his voice cracked, and Itachi felt his anger give way to the quiet panic from earlier, "I hadn't the _faintest_ clue what was wrong – all I knew was that the strongest person I knew was so miserable that he was about to collapse, and… And…"

"No, baby, Itachi, no…" Kisame cooed, reaching out for him as Itachi's lips failed to form words, "I'm sorry, I get pissy when I feel like crap, and I'm taking it out on you -" He turned his head aside to cough wetly into the Akatsuki eSports hoodie that he had slung over the back of the sofa.

Itachi didn't answer. He was too busy allowing his panic to run its course so he could move on, and words were failed by his mouth's inability to move. Instead, Itachi allowed himself to be pulled back into his lover's embrace once his coughing fit was over, the spicy scent of Kisame's body wash greeting him like a familiar comfort in itself.

"Look, it _can_ get bad," he heard Kisame murmur into his hair, "If I seem like I'm confused, or I'm breathing weird, that's when I need to go the ER, but that's really rare. Right now my levels are just a little high, so my cold kinda feels like it's been dialed up to a ten."

Silence.

Eyes still fixed on his lap, Itachi asked, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Kisame grumbled, "I'll take 'I'm a hypocrite that hides his problems' for five hundred."

"Jeopardy is in increments of two hundred, Kisame."

A pinch to his hip told Itachi exactly what the other man thought of that.

Light joking aside, as he fluttered back down from his adrenaline-fueled panic, he began to realize that there was something that was keeping his shoulders stiff, and his back tight enough for the ache next to his shoulder to flare angrily. The heaviness in his chest showed no signs of diminishing despite the fact that Itachi would normally feel incredibly relieved knowing that Kisame, for all intents and purposes, was as fit as a race horse. Something dark and cold was nibbling away at him.

The feeling wasn't worry…

"Would you have told me if I didn't find you like this?" he asked quietly, voice only just barely loud enough for Kisame to hear.

Another bout of heavy silence filled the air between them, thick with tension that was nearly tangible and settled over the pair like a thick knitted blanket. Just the hesitation was enough to answer Itachi's question but, when Kisame finally answered honestly, his voice was thick with shame.

"I… I don't know"

The feeling wasn't worry...

It was disappointment.

It was the kind of staggering disappointment that came with understanding that you were so wholeheartedly doubted by the same person you had entrusted with so much of yourself.

At the way Itachi's shoulders sagged with each steady breath he took, it suddenly occurred to Kisame just how badly he hurt the man whose legs were draped over his lap. Guilt, hot and sharp, lanced through his chest as he floundered mentally to make things better, working hard to find his voice, which had suddenly escaped him.

"I knew you needed to know eventually, but I kept finding excuses to put it off until later…" Kisame trailed off with a sigh, and his eyes slid shut in bitter remorse.

There was no point in finishing his sentence, in trying to make an attempt at justifying his actions. No words were going to rectify the situation, especially not hollow excuses. Itachi had let him in on so much; he had told Kisame about how he worked as a prostitute just to keep himself alive, how his family ostracized him for being gay, how he had been raped repeatedly over the course of almost an entire year…

After all of that, just knowing that he was comfortable to sleep by his side should have clued him in. Just having Itachi in his arms like this should have stood testament to how much he trusted Kisame. But, somehow, Kisame _hadn't_ known. Holding Itachi by the pool, as he shook hard enough that Kisame thought he would fall to pieces, somehow hadn't been enough for him to figure out just how much _faith_ the younger man had in him.

It wasn't until he realized that Itachi was refusing to meet his gaze that Kisame understood how far he had reached out to him, how much he had opened himself up for him.

At the sight of Itachi recoiling, as subtle as the movement was, from the hand Kisame had lifted to hook a finger under his chin, the guilt began to spread through his body like a poison being carried through his veins. He could see the dark curtain that dropped in the back of Itachi's eyes, the stoic line that his mouth set into, and realized that he had obliterated that trust. A barrier, cold and hardened, had been thrown up between the two, just like that.

But Itachi wouldn't admit that, would he? He wouldn't voice the hurt and disappointment Kisame knew lurked just behind that protective veil.

That honestly made it hurt a thousand times worse; he wished Itachi would lay into him like he would have, had their situation been reversed. At least then he would have the verbal acknowledgement that he fucked up, as opposed to the silent shame that burned hotly as it stewed in his veins.

As if Kisame deserved that kind of reprieve. He almost scoffed at the thought.

The truth was, he hid it because he didn't want Itachi to think less of him. Talking about a dead parent was, to put it bluntly, was generic. It wasn't a part of one's person, but a part of his family's past. Having a health condition that needed to be watched multiple times a day as it followed you around like a curse until the day you died, though, a disease that left you feeling like hell more often than you would like, _that_ was a part of you.

Kisame saw how he looked at him – when Itachi's body relaxed when they were close, or when Kisame held him, it didn't go unnoticed. Kisame _knew_ that he felt safe with him and, for some ridiculous reason, he felt that letting Itachi know that he had a life altering disease would mean that Itachi wouldn't see him as a strength that he could depend on anymore.

Itachi had trusted him with so much and Kisame returned the gesture with needless distrust and selfishness over something that wasn't even a big deal. He didn't deserve _shit_.

"Baby… I'm _really_ sorry," he whispered.

It was stupid. So _fucking_ stupid. Kisame saw that now.

When Itachi pulled himself out of his arms, his shoulders grew heavy. As he stood up from the sofa, the ache behind his eyes he hadn't even been aware of grew in intensity. With every step he took towards the door, Kisame's heartbeat faltered.

By the time the door shut behind Itachi, it had split in two.

* * *

"I thought you said he was a good guy!"

Haku nearly toppled over when the door to his bedroom flung open, slamming against the door stop spring loud enough to scare the daylights out of him.

He stared at Shisui for a good thirty seconds, frozen in the act of pulling a t-shirt out of his drawer, with his brown eyes held wide open like a startled deer. When he finally managed to find the wherewithal to respond in confusion, his teammate was already continuing to express his anger.

"Itachi just called me in fuckin' _tears_ , and he couldn't even tell me what happened," Shisui flung his arm out, phone still in hand, and gestured at nothing, "When he _did_ try to tell me, he barely managed to get Kisame's damn _name_ out. You promised that he wouldn't hurt him -!"

"I promised that Kisame was a kind man," Haku cut in calmly, "But that doesn't mean that their relationship would be perfect…" Abandoning his search for dry clothing and ignoring the goosebumps that broke out over his skin from being still damp from the pool, he closed the distance between them and took Shisui's hands in his own, "Please don't be mad just because they're having a rough time… He _is_ good. You _know_ he is."

Having lost most of his steam, Shisui deflated a little at his friend's words. His eyes slipped down to the floor in a show of despondency.

"I know you want to fix everything for Itachi, but maybe you should let him handle this on his own. Don't get involved in this," Haku smiled softly.

Shisui didn't look up from where he was staring at his feet. Haku felt for him, he really did. Seeing his best friend, who was normally full of energy and cracking jokes, with slumped shoulders and a deep-seated worry in his downcast gaze that was only barely contained by his self control… It was the rare reminder of how serious Shisui was when it came to the few people he truly cared about.

"You didn't see what he was like…" his tongue darted out to wet his lips, which had suddenly become dry, "Last time a relationship went bad for him, it was like the life was being sucked out of him. It was like… It was like I was watching him die a little more every day…"

While it had never been fully elaborated on, Haku was given the general idea of what horrors had been going on during their time with Team Anbu. He and Zabuza were there when Shisui was one fraying nerve away from a complete breakdown as he waited in the waiting area of the emergency room, each second seeming to last hours while the hospital workers struggled to bring Itachi back from the brink of death.

They were only around for the aftermath. They only saw Itachi after his suicide attempt, his skin ashen and his cheeks sunken in from the sheer amount of weight he had lost; in his mind's eye Haku could still remember the way his entire body radiated misery, the way he shrank away from anyone that came near him…

It wasn't just that Itachi looked like he wanted to stop living, it was as if he didn't even believe that he was worthy of life in the first place.

He could only imagine how torturous it must have been to watch someone slowly reach that point. He could only imagine how helpless it must be making Shisui feel to know he couldn't instantly be by his best friend's side in an instant.

"You need to trust him to make the best decision for himself, Shisui," Haku said quietly, smoothing his hands up over his wrists to hold his forearms comfortingly, "My bias towards Kisame aside, do you think Itachi would let himself be beaten down again?"

Finally, his words seemed to get through the hardened wall that Shisui had thrown up between them. His dark eyes flitted up to meet Haku's warm gaze, then over to the bed. His brow knitted in confusion.

"Why is your shit all over the bed like that?"

Haku looked over his shoulder with a frown, " _Apparently_ my makeup was taking up too much counter space in the bathroom."

"Lemme guess, Suigetsu and Utakata?" When he nodded, Shisui sighed, "Those dicks."

Aware of how he wanted to move past the conversation, Haku turned and gestured towards the corner or the room he had cleared out, "It's okay. I've really been wanting a vanity, anyways, so now I have an excuse to have Zabuza go shopping with me."

Shisui's expression curled inwards, "You're just gonna make him do all the manual labor, aren't you?"

A sheepish grin broke out over Haku's face upon realizing he had been caught, and pink tinged his cheeks.

"You're spoiled as hell, I hope you know that."

"I am, now get out so I can get ready for a shower," Haku laughed, planting both hands on Shisui's chest to push him through the doorway.

* * *

Itachi was gone.

The rest of the charity event, for the most part, ran as smoothly as it could have. By the time Kisame was feeling up to facing the rest of the world - which, by that point, he didn't know if he felt like complete fucking crap because of their fight-not-fight or because of his persistent cold - it seemed as if everything had blown over and things were back to normal. They were all packed up by ten o'clock, grabbing a bite to eat on their way home at the In-N-Out by eleven, and unwinding in their assigned bedrooms by midnight, with no signs of tension or awkwardness between any of the team members.

If it weren't for the heartbreaking red that touched the corners of Itachi's hooded eyes, Kisame would have wondered if he had created the whole scene up in his head in a hauntingly vivid fever dream.

Deciding that it would be best to give Itachi time alone to mull things over before engaging him in another serious talk, Kisame took a perfunctory shower, took his glargine, then tucked himself under the covers for a night full of fitful sleep. Surely, that would be better than continuing an already long and mentally arduous day by continuing their talk from earlier. Besides, Itachi had been the one that walked out on him so it only made sense to wait for his boyfriend to come to him.

By the time he woke up the next morning, Itachi's bedroom door was wide open with his bed being empty. It almost appeared as if the bed had never been touched in the first place, but he was the kind of person the diligently made his bed and arranged his pillows every morning so that wasn't entirely surprising. Maybe he just didn't sleep well, or had a stroke of motivation to wake up before noon on the weekend.

So, assuming all was normal, Kisame went downstairs in the hopes that he would be watching Netflix or eating those abominable microwave pancakes that Itachi was so fond of drowning in syrup.

Both the couch and the kitchen were empty.

Alright, that was fine. Itachi mentioned going on runs in the morning with past teammates, so him being out of the house at eight o'clock wasn't totally unfounded.

But, half an hour later, Deidara and Konan were leaving for their own run. By the time Kisame had prepared breakfast, which was admittedly way more than what was necessary but he needed a way to busy himself, both of them had returned and showered and hadn't seen a glimpse of Itachi anywhere. His phone, wallet and keys were all gone from his nightstand, which meant that he had left the house, but it seemed that no one had been given a heads up.

That was when Kisame began to worry.

Ignoring the food he had prepared for the rest of the team, he went to his room and snatched his phone off of where it was lying on the desk next to his keyboard. No texts, no missed calls. When Kisame dialed his number, the call was sent straight to voicemail.

Itachi had turned off his phone.

He lowered himself onto his bed, dropping back so that he was laying in the mess that his duvet and sheets were still in, and rubbed at his face. He didn't know what to do. Kisame had every intention to sort things out between them, to lay everything bare and try to move on, but how could he do that if Itachi had fucking vanished?

Anxiety picked away at his mind. It was moments like this where Kisame needed the comforting validation that came with physical contact. He needed Itachi right now; he needed to wrap his arms around Itachi's slim body and pull him tight and allow the touch of the person he cared about so _fucking much_ to soothe the emotional ache and fear of abandonment that ran too deep for words to reach.

That wasn't possible now.

Itachi left.


	12. Chapter 11

Kisame knew something was wrong the minute he saw Shisui's name show up on the caller ID.

Not because he was getting a phone call from the younger man, but because it was one-thirty in the morning when his phone started to ring, and Itachi had been gone for two days without a word to anyone. Sasuke hadn't seen him in over twenty-four hours - which was who apparently Itachi initially went to for comfort, something that would be addressed later - and no one else in the esports community had heard from him. Itachi's phone was still off, too, which only made matters worse. Of course, Shisui had all but ripped his head off when Kisame called him about his best friend in the world having suddenly gone missing, but promised to make some phone calls to non-gamers in the area that might have an idea of where he would be.

Now, he felt more terrified than relieved at the sight of Shisui calling him. 

Kisame's voice wavered with a twinge of hysteria when he answered the phone, "Please tell me you know where he is." At least it wasn't the police, right?

_"Don't worry, he's alright. He's at a club downtown,"_ Shisui sounded almost just as stressed, _"He's completely shitfaced, though. You need to get him right fuckin' quick before he wanders off."_

"Wait, he's _drunk_?" Had he been in any other situation where he hadn't spent the entire weekend in a panic, Kisame might've been embarrassed over the way his voice cracked.

_"From what I could figure out, that shit you pulled with the diabetes messed him up so that he had to get wasted just to feel brave enough to yell at you."_

The accusing lilt in his voice did not go unnoticed.

Kisame swore under his breath and grabbed his wallet and keys off of the dresser, nearly ripping the knob off of the door when he flung it open, "I get he's pissed, but isn't this taking it far -?"

_"Man, you need to get it through your head how fuckin' **scared** this's got Itachi,"_ Shisui cut in, _"You **know** what happened in his last relationship. How the fuck did you think he was going to feel?"_

"I don't even fuckin' know what _happened_ , Shisui," Kisame snapped, his anxiety beginning to bubble over, "I get that bad shit went down, but that's _it_ ," he saw Nagato pad down the hall from the living room with Konan in tow and mouthed 'Found him' before turning towards the front door, "I cocked things up but it isn't like I'm hiding a wife and kids back in Hawaii."

This whole situation was such a mess.

Dead air filled the line for a minute as Kisame walked over to his car and unlocked it; after a few moments he could hear the faint sound of Haku's voice in the background, and he figured that Shisui had accidentally woken up his friend.

Eventually there was some shuffling, and Shisui sighed heavily.

_"Look, I can't have this talk for him,"_ he finally said, _"For now, just… Take care of him. Please. I sent you the address from Haku's phone already."_

When he showed up at The Metro half an hour later and saw Itachi slumped over on the curb, the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened.

"Kiiisahmay?" His eyes, normally sharp and attentive, were glazed over as Kisame stepped around his Charger to open up the passenger door.

Holy shit, Itachi was _hammered_.

"Babe, how much have you had to drink?" he asked while turning back towards the curb.

Itachi lifted his his shoulders and lazily dropped them back down in a careless shrug, "I'onno. Four... Five?"

Five of what? Eight ounce glasses of _tequila_? Kisame hooked his arms under his armpits to haul Itachi up to his feet, thankful that the slender man had the presence of mind to sling his arms around Kisame's shoulders to hang on, instead of just slipping out of the hold and toppling to the ground. Itachi panted into the hollow of Kisame's shoulder and made a miserable groaning sound that was mostly muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt when he twisted them around to practically carry Itachi back to the car.

"Mmmffuuuuck," he whimpered, "Don't... Don't feel good."

"I know, baby, we're almost there," Kisame murmured while taking slow, calculated steps as to not jostle Itachi too much.

Yeah, no _shit_ he didn't feel good. Dubbed as the unofficial designated driver, Kisame didn't normally find himself in situations where he was so intoxicated that simply standing was a nauseating feat that required all of your attention, but he got the idea that poison into your system didn't quite give you the same effect as when you went on a healthy run. Didn't Itachi say that he didn't even drink, to begin with? Was he really so upset over what happened the other day that he went out on his own to drink himself into oblivion like this?

Itachi nearly collapsed into the seat and promptly doubled over with a really fucking gross gurgling moan.

How did he even get here, in the first place?

Once dropping into a crouch in front of him, Kisame used one hand to tuck Itachi's bangs behind his ears while the other rubbed slow, gentle circles into his back, "Baby, go ahead and throw up if you think you're going to."

He didn't respond. Both of Itachi's eyes were screwed shut and his breath came in deep, noisy pants through his mouth; Kisame was pretty sure he was about to toss his cookies when a tear squeezed past his lashes.

Oh, jeeze.

Given that it was after two in the morning and the club's patrons had pretty much vacated, save the couple that was screwing in the back of a white SUV in the parking lot, Kisame decided that it wouldn't hurt to spend a couple more minutes sitting by the curb. So when Itachi reached out for him, he very carefully helped guide him into his lap before slowly shifting so that he was sitting on the asphalt.

"I'm… 'm sorry…" he whimpered into his collar.

Hearing just how dismal Itachi's voice sounded, feeling the warmth of silent tears soaking his t-shirt, he had to fight the urge to squeeze him as tight as he could. Even if it was mostly alcohol-induced, it was obvious that Itachi was absolutely miserable, and every single fiber of Kisame's being demanded that he wrap himself around Itachi's slender form and shield him from all of the hurt that clearly plagued him. The mind-numbing panic that had been afflicting him for the last two days immediately vacated to make room for an overwhelming surge of protectiveness that left Kisame's muscles quivering, and his heart feeling so overfull that it threatened to spill over.

His eyes slid shut in an attempt to keep himself grounded, and he brought one hand up to cradle Itachi's head against his shoulder, "I know, baby… We'll talk about it tomorrow."

It wasn't okay, they had a lot of things to discuss, but now wasn't the time for that. Right now Kisame just wanted to hold him and reassure himself that Itachi was with him, and _safe_ , and –

And it looked like that would have to wait, as well.

Kisame had less than a moment between the sick gurgling sound that came from Itachi's stomach, and Itachi pushing himself out of his lap to fall onto his hands and knees. When the younger man started to sway to one side, he reached out with both hands to keep him stable while he retched. Kisame noted how the vomit was mostly clear, save the yellow-green tinge of bile; Itachi had been drinking something like tequila or vodka on an empty stomach, which was probably why he was as intoxicated as he , that and the fact that he weighed all of a hundred pounds...

With a groan, he dropped down onto his forearms and nearly face-planted into the puddle of shame he had just created.

"Ah, shit," Kisame repositioned himself so that he could keep Itachi from collapsing, "Alright, I've got you."

Fuck, his heart was _racing_. It was like a rabbit was throwing a fit against his ribcage, kicking and thumping around like it was on speed, and Kisame really hoped that the stress of vomiting while already being so dehydrated wasn't going to send Itachi into cardiac arrest.

As if on cue, Itachi groaned just before his body lurched for a second round of puking.

Poor thing.

One more heave of his shoulders, then two. Once his breathing slowed from short, rapid gasps to deeper lungfuls, Itachi sat back on his heels with the help of his conveniently heavily-muscled boyfriend. Confusion was written all over his face as he met Kisame's gaze with his own, which was only a little more focused now.

"When did'j'yu get here?"

Reaching back into his car to open up the glove compartment, Kisame frowned, "Babe, I've been here for, like, almost twenty minutes," he grabbed a handful of napkins and used them to wipe the gross that clung to Itachi's chin.

A funny scrunch formed on the bridge of his nose, "How… How d'd you..?"

"A little birdie told me where you were."

Itachi's eyes slanted, as if he was trying to figure out if Kisame had actually spoken with a bird or not, before huffing and turning his face to survey the parking lot. There was a sort of conflicted look on his face that made Kisame wonder if he was about to start throwing up again. Instead, he said simply,

"I wanna Big Mac."

He tucked Itachi's bangs back behind his ears, "You hungry, baby?"

Without looking away from whatever had captured his attention in the parking lot, he nodded, "Mhm."

The knot in his stomach finally started to loosen. If Itachi was asking for food then that meant that he was already feeling better, even though something like McDonald's would probably be too greasy for his stomach to handle right now. Not to mention the sheer amount of salt in that shit that would only further dehydrate him...

As his brain tried to remember if there were any 24 hour diners in the area, Kisame slid an arm around Itachi's waist to haul him back to his feet, "Alright, c'mon, let's go find you something to eat."

Itachi flung his hand out to point at the parking lot, "They're havin' sex," he said matter-of-factly.

Following the direction of where he was pointing, Kisame saw that the white SUV was damn near see-sawing back and forth like a rocking horse. Well, at least he knew what he had been so interested in…

"Yup, they're definitely having a good time," he muttered while maneuvering Itachi around so that he could gently place him back into the passenger seat.

Itachi finally looked away from the rocking Highlander, "I wanna fuck, too."

Kisame bonked his head on the door frame.

The look Itachi gave him was cool and impassive and gave no indication of how he must be absolutely _marveling_ at how the other man had begun to sputter and turn a rather startling shade of red. By the time Kisame managed to reach across Itachi's lap to fasten his seatbelt – which was no easy feat, given how much he fumbled and kept missing the damn lock – he was all too painfully aware of how good Itachi was at getting him erect.

"Nope, _nooope_ ," Kisame instantaneously began to hate life as he pulled away from the soft lips that were sucking on his earlobe, "You need food, not dick."

Those perfect, pretty lips turned downwards into what was quite possibly one of the sexiest pouts that Kisame had ever seen – and he's watched a metric shit ton of porn in his life, so he was basically an expert on sexy pouts.

"I need both."

Maybe knocking his head on the car dislodged his brain, because instead of immediately peeling his long fingers away from the waistband of his pants, a scene involving a very naked Itachi, strawberry ice cream, and whipped cream flashed through Kisame's head, and his jeans tightened considerably.

Somehow the one that was drunk enough to being seeing double was still able to pick up on the way Kisame's jaw went slack, because Itachi's eyes darkened to a mesmerizing color and he brought his face close enough for Kisame to feel his warm breath on his twitching erection.

"Ya'shure?" his lips grazed the denim flap over the front zipper, "I'm _real_ good at sucking cock."

It wasn't fair that someone could manage to be so fucking gorgeous while being so clearly shitfaced – somehow even his _slurred speech_ was sufficiently sultry as to make Kisame's dick jump hard enough for it to be worthy of its own performance in Cirque du Soleil. He felt like he was in physical pain as he pried Itachi's fingers away from where they were slipping his button open.

"Oh, I bet you are," he said a little too breathlessly, prying Itachi's fingers away from where they were trying to slip his top button open. Thankfully it seemed that, for as talented as he was at melting Kisame's brain and reducing him to an incoherent, whimpering mess, Itachi's motor skills were impaired enough for him to not be able to open his jeans and pull out his erection in one fluid motion like Kisame would bet that he could do if he were sober.

Which would be one of the hottest fucking things he'd probably ever see, but this _really_ wasn't the time for that.

Itachi's pout turned into a very unsatisfied frown, but he wasn't given enough time to make any protests. Kisame shut the passenger door, careful not to hit him with it, and took the longer route around the rear of his car so he could discreetly readjust his throbbing man-bits from where they were trying to do yoga in his boxers.

By the time everything was put in a more comfortable position, Kisame was feeling pretty damn proud of himself for not being an insufferable shitstain of a human being. As much as his nether regions ached at the utter lack of attention that was promised, he would have felt like a literal monster that killed puppies and terrorized innocent townspeople.

Had he the right frame of mind, he would have laughed at how Itachi already seemed to have forgotten his suggestion for a blowjob. As soon as Kisame slid into the driver's seat of his car he was leaning over the center console, apparently completely unaware of how uncomfortable the position was for any other normal human being, and squirming his way under Kisame's arm like a cat looking to be petted. A content little smile managed to break through the layer of awful on his face when Kisame's arm wrapped around him and – okay, well, Itachi was now trying to lay on his chest, so driving was going to be more than a little awkward but, now that he had Itachi with him, Kisame figured that he wouldn't need to go twenty over the speed limit like he normally did.

Thankfully it didn't take more than a few minutes of driving around downtown to find an Ihop with a glorious '24 Hour' addition to the brand sign that glowed like a beautiful oasis placed in the middle of a desert.

Unlike Kisame, however, Itachi made an unhappy sound in the back of his throat once he realized that they weren't parking in a fast food lot.

"Denny's sells Big Macs?"

He snorted. As if Kisame would take this gem of a human being to a fucking _Denny's_ – he had standards, jeeze.

"We're at Ihop, Itachi," he explained while unlocking their seatbelts, "We're getting you pancakes."

Itachi looked positively scandalized, which was quite possibly one of the funniest things Kisame had ever seen. The expression he wore was akin to how one would look if you told them that you humped their childhood teddy, wide-eyes, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, and his lips parted in a perfect _o_.

"But I want a Big Mac."

"I know, I know, but the last thing you need is something greasy and salty."

The younger man gave him a comically suspicious look when Kisame opened up the passenger door, narrowing his eyes, "You just don't want me gettin' fat."

"Yup, that's exactly it," he drawled while helping him out of the car, "I want your butt to stay looking like a perfect little peach."

Itachi's jaw fell through the ground.

For one terrifying moment Kisame thought that he took the joke seriously and was about to go into some sort of drunken tantrum about him wanting Itachi only for his body, but the crimson that stained his cheeks and surprised gasp that fell past his open lips told him otherwise.

"How'd'ya know what my butt looks like?" Another gasp, " _Byuntae_!"

Kisame didn't pretend to know what kind of scenario was flying through his head as he all but carried Itachi across the parking lot. He didn't even bother explaining that it was a joke because it wasn't as if Itachi would remember this in the morning, anyways. By the time he managed to get him through the door, he had stopped speaking English and actually sounded like he was slurring his way through multiple languages in single sentences.

The lone waiter gave the pair an amused grin and motioned for them to sit wherever as he pocketed tip money from the only other table that looked like it had been occupied in the last hour.

Much like a little kid that had been given one of those coloring sheets that doubled as a paper menu, Itachi quickly found himself distracted by the intricate patterns of his three-quarter sleeve once they were seated. The tips of his slender fingers clumsily traced the ink that zigzagged across his skin.

"Good evening, my name's Dylan and I'll be your server," the waiter said a little tiredly as he slid two floppy plastic menus over the table, "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

Itachi didn't look up from the swirl his fingertip was poking, "Big Mac, please."

Dylan bit his lips to keep from chortling at his clearly drunk customer, lifting his gaze to meet Kisame's.

"Water, please."

"Kisahmay, can we get pie?" Itachi asked once the waiter walked away.

"They don't have pie."

"'Course they do, chief. Perkins always has pie."

"We're at Ihop, babe."

When Dylan came back with – and, bless his heart for this – an entire pitcher of water, Itachi was back to mumbling in something other than English and fervently poking at Kisame's tattoo. It probably would have been cute if A) his fingers weren't long and skinny and cold-as-fucking-shit and B) if he seemed to be following some sort of rhythm; instead it just felt like Kisame was being stabbed with a bunch of icicles at complete random.

"What are you _doing_?" he asked after ordering a stack of plain buttermilk pancakes and sliced banana that their waiter was more than willing to write off as a simple side of fruit, since he couldn't actually sell individual fruits. Best fuckin' waiter of the _year_ , right there.

Itachi's eyes finally flitted up from where the fingers of his left hand were dancing along the swells of his developed biceps, " _La Campanella_."

Frustration finally began to set in as Kisame slid a glass of water in front of him. Itachi spoke _Spanish_ , too? Did he also write poetry in Russian and translate Martian messages for NASA?

"It always gave me trouble when I was little," a fond smile tugged at his lips, "Liszt was a fuckin' psychopath."

Okay, so Itachi swearing was kind of like watching a dog walk on two legs, or seeing your high school teacher outside of school. It was weird, in a really uncomfortable way, and it obliterated fantasies Kisame had about him in the past where he imagined Itachi whispering dirty things in his ear as he nailed him into the mattress. As much as he adored Itachi for everything he was worth, this was actually kind of bothersome.

It didn't help that Kisame still had no goddamn clue what the fuck he was talking about.

"Wh-when I was a teenager, we came up with backgrounds for everyone," he continued, completely oblivious to the lost expression on his boyfriend's face as he continued to jab into his arm, "Chopin hated lefties, Beethoven was a…." Itachi stopped to take a long sip of water, then giggled and kissed Kisame's shoulder, "Beethoven wass'a'troll. Liszt was just crazy," his hand slipped away to rest in Kisame's lap, "Always made my hands hurt after recitals."

Oh – _ooooh_. That's right, Itachi used to compete in piano competitions and stuff; he guessed that _La Campanella_ was a song made by some guy named Liszt? Though Kisame was admittedly an uncultured swine, unlike the man next to him who was apparently too drunk to realize where he was but was still capable of remembering entire piano pieces, so he still had pretty much no idea what Itachi was going on about when he called Beethoven a troll.

Still… It made Kisame more than a little sad to see the faraway look in Itachi's eye as he continued to talk about what it was like to play pieces that were created by different people. It was almost like he was talking about a friend he had lost, someone that was clearly very precious to him, and Kisame wondered how far from the truth that was as he refilled Itachi's glass.

"Y'know… I wasn' a big gamer when I was a kid," he admitted, "That wass'lways Shisui's thing."

Kisame didn't answer. He leaned back in the booth and chose to listen silently, snaking one arm around Itachi's waist so that his hand cupped his waist.

"But video game soundtracks were some'f my favorite things to play when I was sad… Shisui would find the sheet music for certain songs n' ask me to teach him…" Itachi sighed and reached for his water, "I knew he did'n' care about learning, but he knew playing was healing for me, and he knew I liked OSTs for their flavor…" he flicked his tongue over his lips to catch any excess droplets after taking a sip, "I miss that. I miss…"

Itachi trailed off, nearly dropping his glass when he tried to set it on the table but underestimated how high he needed to lift his hand to do so. Thankfully Kisame was a little more focused on the present and managed to catch it by the rim to keep it from spilling everywhere, setting it back where it belonged.

"I miss playing, Kisame," he whispered, "Do you know what it's like for a musician to have their instrument taken away?"

In the back of his mind there was a voice that told Kisame that he already knew the answer, but he couldn't stop the words from slipping free, "Why did you stop..?"

A mirthless laugh bubbled past Itachi's lips.

"Here are your pancakes," Dylan announced in a singsong voice, sliding the warm plate in front of the two, "Aaand your bananas. Do you two gentleman need anything else?"

Kisame tried to not punch the kid in the gut with his eyes for his piss-poor timing, knowing that Itachi's mind was so one-track when he was plastered that their conversation was already forgotten.

"Nah, we're good," he answered gruffly.

Just as he was as easily distracted as a young child, it seemed that his boyfriend started to eat like toddler when he was drunk. If Kisame wasn't as emotionally drained as he was from the rollercoaster of emotions that was the last hour, and the general stress of these last couple of days, he probably would have found it comical to see Itachi tear off a chunk of pancake with his fingers to stuff it into his mouth like a two year-old eating Cheerios.

Instead, he just felt like hell.

"Hang on, you," he murmured, batting Itachi's hand away from the plate before he could cause any more destruction.

The gesture ended up navigating him over to the small bowl of banana slices, which Itachi happily grabbed one - or, well, crushed it between his fingertips – and popped it in with the pancake he was still swallowing. That was fine. Kisame was mostly worried about him putting too much bread into his mouth and not being able to properly chew it, anyways – it would be his luck that Itachi's gag reflex would quit working right, and he'd choke to death in the corner of an Ihop.

Kisame speared a carefully-sized triangle of pancake with his fork and lifted it up to his boyfriend's face, "Open up."

Another thing he didn't trust Itachi with right now was handling anything sharp near his mouth; he'd probably end up stabbing his tongue and bleeding out over the table.

They sat like that for probably fifteen minutes, Itachi still nestled against Kisame's side and patiently chewing bites of food as they were presented to him. It seemed that the night was finally beginning to catch up with him, because his eyes eventually slipped shut with a sigh of contentment.

Kisame honestly kind of felt like crying. He had taken care of plenty of drunk people before – god knows that Suigetsu and Zabuza could be total lushes when they wanted to be – but this was the first time that anyone had gotten drunk because of him. During one of their first phone calls Itachi had specifically stressed that he didn't drink, but here he was, all glassy-eyed and puking his guts up and offering blowjobs in the parking lot of a club that he went to all on his own, because of something that Kisame had done.

Even if he didn't understand exactly why his lying by omission affected Itachi this way, the fact that he was responsible for this knotted up his stomach and made his chest feel like someone had scooped out his insides until nothing was left but a desolate husk and an aching heart.

It shouldn't hurt this much to know you hurt someone.

Suddenly, Itachi pulled the fork from his fingers and, albeit a little clumsily, managed to set it on the plate. When he started wriggling around in his hold, Kisame couldn't figure out what the hell was happening until Itachi somehow managed to clamber into his lap.

"Babe, what are you doing?" he finally asked when Itachi's arms came up to bracket his waist.

He turned his face up to press a kiss into his chest, "Snuggles."

Kisame blinked, "What?" Here, in a hard, plastic booth where they would most definitely be attracting attention to themselves as literally the _only_ non-employees in the entire building? Granted, he was trying to make sense of someone that wouldn't be making any sense for many more hours, but –

"I can feel that you're unhappy," Itachi casually explained, "Snuggles make you feel better. I want to make you feel better."

Even though he might only be doing this just because he was drunk out of his mind, it was enough to hit exactly the right nerve that sent a rush of tears to Kisame's eyes. He wrapped his thick arms around Itachi's shoulders and waist, burying his face in the hollow of his shoulder, and held him tight to his chest. His muscles quivered with heedfully restrained tension, and his breath started to come in short, ragged gasps.

Soft lips fluttered along his neck, which was just about all Itachi could reach in his current position, "No, no, don't… Don't cry," he pleaded quietly, "I'm sorry, please don't cry…"

"I'm not crying, baby," Kisame murmured into his collar. It was half-true, at least – his eyes were squeezed shut so tight that there was no way his tears could slip past; he couldn't completely lose his composure when Itachi needed him to keep his cool.

Still, Itachi continued to press gentle kisses where he could, "It'ss'kay, don't cry, everythin's okay now…"

He didn't know why something like this pushed Itachi this far – he didn't know why he reacted like this, why he did something that was so obviously out of character for him. Kisame ran through every possible scenario in his head as he laid on his bed waiting for something, some sort of update from Itachi, but nothing made sense to him. He had so many questions, and none of them could be answered. Not right now, not when Itachi was like this. It wouldn't feel right to ask for an explanation when his inhibitions were down like this; asking for that kind of information would be almost as bad as taking advantage of his drunken state for sex.

But did Itachi trust him enough to tell him in the morning when he was sober?

Kisame's arms tightened around his waist.

Probably not.

* * *

By the time they managed to get onto the interstate, Itachi had calmed down enough for Kisame to feel comfortable with leaving him in the car long enough for him to run into the convenience store for a few things. Though, given that they were in San Diego, he still made quick work of snatching two wax containers of coconut water and a small box of over the counter antiemetics off of the shelves. Hopefully one bottle of water tonight would help preventing the worst a hangover, and the other would help what was left over.

As Kisame pulled into the driveway of the team hosue, Itachi had been asleep for about twenty minutes. A part of him wanted to wake him back up until he was a little more sober, maybe keep him entertained with some Netflix, to avoid his blood alcohol content from going up any further, but he looked so _tired_ …

He sighed and carefully scooped the sleeping man into his arms, using his knee to shut the door and grimacing a little when the bag from the gas station swung around to stab him in the leg with the corner of the medicine box.

Contrarily, Konan looked as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the entire evening as he stepped into the foyer. Her unusually colored eyes looked a touch wild with worry when she saw Itachi unconscious in Kisame's arms.

"He's fine, just had too much booze," he whispered.

Confusion raced across her face, but their coach's shoulders relaxed noticeably at the reassurance that Itachi was alright. Chances were, Konan was thinking the same thing Kisame was: He was home, he was safe, and he was unhurt. Questions could wait until tomorrow.

"Kyusuke and I will practice for you two tomorrow," she murmured, reaching out to brush Itachi's bangs back, "Take care of him and sort this out."

That's right, they would probably be sat down for a talk about their relationship bleeding into their professional lives but, for now, it was more important to smooth everything over.

With a yawn, Konan turned and started back up the stairs to finally head to bed. Kisame followed in silence, taking each step slowly as to not jostle Itachi awake or upset his stomach, which was full of warm pancakes that were hopefully doing their job of soaking up whatever alcohol Itachi didn't already vomit up in the parking lot of the club.

For a moment he considered turning the lights on, feeling a familiar childish anxiety built at the thought of being in the dark, but he decided to simply keep the door open so some sort of light could filter in from the hallway light. If he flipped on the lights now, Itachi would be jolted from his sleep.

Unfortunately it seemed that his efforts were mostly in vain. As soon as Kisame shifted to lower him onto the bed, Itachi's eyes fluttered open to peer up at him curiously.

"You're in my room?"

Kisame propped one knee on the edge of his bed for balance while tugging back the neatly-made comforter, "Mhm, we're getting you in bed."

Itachi frowned, "I've still got my pants on."

Ah, well… Honestly it wasn't as if he had any idea how his boyfriend liked to sleep; it wasn't a topic that ever came up and the last time they were in bed together Itachi didn't seem to mind falling asleep in denim and a hoodie, so Kisame didn't think it would be an issue.

Clearly, though, Itachi wasn't so tired that he was comfortable in his clothing. As soon as his back touched the sheets he was already tugging at his jeans.

"Wait, babe, wait," Kisame felt himself beginning to panic a little as his hands flew to grab Itachi's wrists, "Let me get your PJs and I'll leave so you can change."

He didn't wait for a response. Kisame released his wrists and pivoted a little stiffly on his heel to briskly walk over to the dresser that was placed oddly close to the door. Didn't this used to be on the other side of the room? Kind of a weird placement…

Whatever. Kisame didn't care enough to waste time thinking about how Itachi decorated his room as he started rifling through drawers. Like most other human beings on the planet the sock and underwear drawer were located at the top – Kisame chuckled a little at the discovery of his boyfriend wearing trunks, which were basically the booty shorts of male underwear – but it took a little bit of exploring to find the pajama drawer, which happened to be at the very bottom. What was strange was how none of the other four drawers actually had any clothes in them, other than two hoodies in the second from the top.

Weird.

Amidst his uneasiness, Kisame felt a lightness in his chest as he pulled out a familiar shirt from the pajama drawer. It was the shirt he had given Itachi to wear when he came over for pizza; Kisame completely forgot about it until now. It wasn't just that he kept the shirt for himself that made him feel all warm and bubbly, it was the fact that he put it with the same clothing that he slept in. Did that mean that Itachi still slept in it..?

When he wore it, did it make him think of him?

The thought brought a pleased grin to his lips.

The rustling of fabric and an annoyed grunt snapped him out of his musings. When he looked over his shoulder, a surprised and mildly amused laugh bubbled up past his lips.

"Itachi, what the hell are you doing?"

Itachi was twisted around onto his side with both hands above his head, his shirt tangled around his neck and his face looking positively grumpy as he stared at the nightstand. When he was called out to, his pout deepened.

"I need help," he grumbled unhappily.

Oh, jeeze.

Pulling out a random pair of sleeping pants, Kisame rose up from where he was crouching in front of the dresser and made his way back to the bed, chucking the clothes at the end.

"Alright, lift your arms up," he commanded softly while trying to undo whatever absurdly complex Chinese knot Itachi had managed to twist his shirt into, making sure to not let his fingers come in contact with Itachi's body. How he had even managed to do this in the maybe sixty seconds Kisame had his back turned was just beyond him; Itachi really seemed to have a knack for getting himself into trouble when no one was looking.

Once the shirt was discarded, Itachi immediately started fumble with the front buttons of his jeans.

Even if he had exactly zero intentions to lay a lascivious finger on his boyfriend's body tonight, there was something that felt very wrong about being in the same room as him as he undressed. Watching him struggle with removing his pants was leading to a place that left him even more uncomfortable than just being within the same vicinity as Itachi.

Just as he expected, after a few more seconds of clumsily scrabbling at the buttons, Itachi's hands dropped to the bed with an impatient huff.

Shit.

"No – you can do it," there was a small tremor in Kisame's voice as he ignored the pointedly expectant way he was staring at him.

"I can't," Itachi protested with a pout.

" _Yeah_ , you _can_ , you just need to slow down and concentrate," he took him by the wrists to help him into a sitting position, "Let's put this on, first."

Kisame reached for the oversized shirt that was draped over the foot of the bed. When he looked back, the sight of his boyfriend made the knot in his gut from earlier tighten back up.

"Itachi?" he let go of the shirt and knelt in front of him, "Itachi, what's wrong?"

Itachi's shoulders were slumped and he was hunched over, like the guy at the end of _Shutter_ , with the waistband of his too-tight skinny jeans cutting into his waist. His eyes were bloodshot, he must've bit his lip too hard because now it was bleeding, and Itachi's skin had taken such a pallid complexion that it made Kisame genuinely nervous. In the maybe five seconds he had taken his eyes away from him, Itachi transformed from someone that was simply tired and drunk, to someone that looked like he had been hit by a semi after soaking in a cesspool of the physical manifestation of the word melancholia.

His dark eyes didn't look up from his lap, as he whispered, "I'm trash, aren't I?"

Kisame's brain short-circuited and, for a few moments, he couldn't even make any sense of what had been asked. Why would he…?

He grabbed Itachi's hands to hold them in his lap, effectively covering them in his own like a protective barrier, "You're _not_ trash. Why the fuck would you even think that?"

A tear slipped out to roll down his cheek.

"You didn't want me earlier, either… You don't have a problem with sleeping with random men from bars, but you won't even _touch_ me," Itachi's fell forward to hang between them, his disheveled hair acting as a veil between them, "I must be disgusting."

"Baby, no," he brought both of his hands up to press them to his lips, "You just drank too much, you're tired, and you're not yourself right now," Kisame kissed his knuckles, "I just… I don't want to do anything that would upset you in the morning."

His breathing hitched, and Itachi's bottom lip did this little fluttering thing when it got caught between his teeth that probably would've been cute if he didn't look so pathetic.

Kisame didn't know what to do. In the back of his mind he could still hear Itachi's fearful voice begging him to stop touching him during the last time Kisame had tried to remove his jeans in the heat of the moment. He didn't want to elicit that kind of response again; he didn't want to be the reason for another one of Itachi's panic attacks. Above that, though, the idea of stripping him down, only for Itachi to regret it in the morning, made Kisame feel sick to his stomach. The trust they had built together was already teetering precariously on the edge of a cliff – if Kisame did something to snap that final fragile thread, he wasn't sure if he could bear living with Itachi while he looked at him with doubt.

But… With the way Itachi was curling in on himself, looking as revolted with himself as he did, Kisame was pretty sure he could actually _hear_ his own heart breaking. He didn't want him to feel like trash. He didn't want him to think that Kisame didn't _want_ to put his hands on him – because, _fuck_ , he wanted to. He wanted to lay Itachi down and kiss every inch of his body until he understood just how much Kisame _loved_ him –

Oh… Oh, _no_.

Slowly, Kisame leaned his head down until his face was buried in Itachi's still-clothed lap. For some reason he smelled like booze and coffee and cigarettes, but Kisame hardly noticed because he was too busy trying to still his beating heart. This was just a busy, emotional weekend for both of them, and he was just feeling the effects of not sleeping for two days straight after that much stress – that was it. It was much too early, and things were still too new, for him to be in love with Itachi and this was absolutely _not_ okay because they were both clearly still battling with their own personal demons.

Itachi's arms circled his head, and Kisame could feel him beginning to tremble like a leaf that was only barely hanging on to its branch.

"C-can…" he paused to hiccup, "Can I sleep with you?"

Thanks to what now felt like an ingrained need to keep the man next to him as deliriously happy as he possibly could, and his own selfish desire for the comforting feeling of someone being next to him, Kisame didn't miss a beat, "Of course, baby."

As if he'd ever turn down the opportunity to cuddle with his boyfriend all night, anyways. They'd done that before.

He kissed both of Itachi's thighs before turning his face up to place one on his lips. It was slow and gentle, and the sound of Itachi sighing contently into the kiss loosened the knot in the pit of his stomach, if only a little, as his palms smoothed upwards to his hips. Kisame moved at a snail's pace, fully aware of how his heart was racing almost agonizingly against his ribs, but was able to pop the top button of Itachi's jeans open without too much trouble. They were the kind of jeans that traded a zipper for a vertical row of buttons, so Kisame kept Itachi distracted with his mouth as his stiff fingers moved down the front flap to tug at the second.

A shiver raced down his spine at the sensation of Itachi's long, slender fingers came up to weave their way into his shock of blue hair. It ran down his arms and legs like little bolts of electricity, making his fingers and toes tingle pleasantly as he managed to open the second button.

The tension in Kisame's shoulders eased when he heard his name pass through Itachi's lips, whispered into their kiss with an indescribable emotion that danced in their shared breath. When he felt the blunt edges of his nails scratch lightly at his scalp, he broke the kiss to touch their cheeks together, nuzzling his nose into Itachi's jaw like a lonely dog.

"Don't ever let anyone make you think you're trash," Kisame breathed, "You're so beautiful, Itachi. Everything about you is so _beautiful_ …"

Another tear slipped past Itachi's long lashes to roll down their joined faces. A silent, broken sob ghosted over Kisame's ear.

"I have scars," he whispered as the final button popped open, his hands skirting down Kisame's arms to rest over his wrists.

The subtle request did not go unnoticed. Kisame pressed a kiss into the hollow just in front of his ear, then changed the positions of their hands to bring Itachi's to his jeans.

"I'll step out, then," he said softly, rising from his kneeling position; he needed to get ready for bed, anyways, so he'd do that while Itachi changed into some clean underwear and pajama pants. Before he left, though, Kisame grabbed one of the bottles of coconut water and twisted the cap off, setting them both on the nightstand, "Try to drink some of this. I'll bring you some ibuprofen."

The next few minutes passed by in the blur of routine. Kisame moved on autopilot, removing the plethora of metal and plastic that adorned his ears and face, and dropping them all into their appropriate sections in his jewelry box before stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower that he didn't really remember turning on.

Because he hated the constricting feeling of clothes when he slept – he somehow always woke up to everything being twisted around his body like a fucking garrote – Kisame normally went to bed in the nude, not even bothering with boxers, but common sense told him that it would be completely out of the question to try to crawl into the sheets with Itachi like that. When he was done drying the water that ran down his body in blue-tinged rivulets, he pulled an old pair of sweatpants over his boxers and prayed that his loose racerback wouldn't strangle him in his sleep.

Once his teeth were brushed and his clothes were dumped in the hamper, Kisame opened up the medicine cabinet in search for the familiar bottle of generic CVS brand ibuprofen, popping the top off and dumping two of the round tablets into his palm. Hopefully the pancakes, water, ibuprofen and coconut water would be enough to curb the impending hangover that would otherwise be monumentally hellish. The last time Kisame got _that_ wasted, he woke up absolutely certain that he was dying.

Well, to be fair, if Haku hadn't also been a diabetic that knew his insulin schedule, he probably _would've_ been in some deep shit.

In the time it took him to get prepared for bed, including plugging his phone in to charge on his nightstand, Itachi had chucked his clothing into a pile that sat in the corner. Kisame eyed the pajama bottoms that laid on top, "Did I grab the wrong pants?"

Itachi shook his head sleepily, "I just wear a shirt."

Well… Shit. Kisame toyed with the idea of removing his own sweats as he closed the distance between them, but opted to keep them on for Itachi's sake by the time he was lifting back the covers; as much as he'd love to be more comfortable, that kind of thing could wait until they were in a better place.

Besides, every nerve ending in his body was already lighting up like fucking Christmas lights as he slipped between the sheets. In the back of his mind Kisame wondered if the excitement-slash-nervousness that stemmed from being in the same bed with Itachi would even allow him to get any sleep. This wasn't like the last time they slept together, where they accidentally conked out watching cartoons due to both of them being wiped out – this had been a conscious decision on Itachi's part to invite him into his bed so they could sleep together.

What made it that much better was the way Itachi rolled over to face him, his dark eyes staring at him calmly. Even if the circles under his eyes were bad enough to make him look like a panda and his tear troughs, which were usually already pretty prominent, looked significantly deeper due to exhaustion and stress, his eyes were noticeably clearer than before. Itachi'd sobered up, enough for it to be noticeable even in the darkness that was only barely lit by the sliver of moonlight that trickled in through the blinds, and that made his request feel so much more genuine that Kisame felt like he was going to vibrate off of the mattress.

Oh, speaking of sobering up…

"Here," he held out his hand, thankful for his palms not getting sweaty in his excitement and dissolving the ibuprofen. That would've been smooth.

Itachi eyed the brown tablets for a couple of seconds before sighing and pushing himself up into a sitting position, clearly unhappy with having to leave the warm nest that his blankets provided. Once he had lazily pressed his open palm to his mouth and chased the medicine down with the previously provided water, he settled back down into the sheets, this time a little closer. Itachi reached out with one slender hand to cover the one Kisame had between them, pulling it back to rest on his cheek.

His skin was soft, so much so that it continued to surprise Kisame every time he cupped his jaw or kissed his forehead. Kisame gently caressed the silky skin beneath Itachi's eye with his thumb, noting the way his breathing began to even out as he did so.

"I don't think you're weak."

It was spoken so quietly, in a voice nearly inaudible, that Kisame nearly missed it. It took him a moment to figure out what he was even talking about, too, until he remembered what he had said to Itachi at the charity event.

He sighed and scooted forward across the bed, the hand not cradling Itachi's face slipping beneath his pillow so his arm could wrap around his shoulders. Itachi didn't complain when he was pulled into an embrace that held him tight to Kisame's chest.

"I know, baby," he murmured, feeling Itachi's arm drape over his waist, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Soft lips pressed a kiss into the hollow of his collar.

"Thank you."

* * *

Ugh…

Itachi snuggled down into the cocoon of warmth that enveloped him with a soft groan of discomfort, floating in the twilight phase of consciousness where he was no longer dreaming but most of his brain was enveloped in a blanket made of Vantablack. There was a dull ache that ran deep through Itachi's skull, which felt like a pressure cooker, nausea trickled through his stomach like a venom that worked slow and subtly, and he was pretty sure that his mouth and throat had become so dry that they actually had fused together.

Something warm and large smoothed over his shoulder to pull his hair back from where it was bunched around his face and neck; it was only a little weird to feel some strands being peeled away from where they were sticking to his skin.

"Good morning, blanket hog," a familiar voice greeted him softly, "How're you feeling?"

That was when Itachi realized that he was pressed up against something that was hard and hot .

Very, very slowly, as to not subject his sensitive eyes to the rays of sunlight peeking through his window too quickly, Itachi opened his eyes to see a familiar tanned chest. His lips parted to voice his confusion to ask how he managed to find himself in bed with his boyfriend, but his throat was much too parched for any noise to pass through, and his tongue felt like it had been replaced with a heavy stack of sandpaper.

In preparation to move into a sitting position, he started to roll over onto his back and was rewarded with a violent wave of nausea.

Well, at least the sheets were soft…

_Wait_.

Itachi rubbed his legs together, feeling the smoothness of his bare skin and the supple softness of the flannel sheets, and his heart rate picked up.

The horror he felt must have registered on his face, because Kisame propped himself up on his elbows to turn a concerned gaze over to him, "What is it?"

After several attempts of forcing words to form, which resulted in him mostly just croaking incoherently, Itachi lifted up the covers to gesture at his nearly naked form. He kept his eyes glued to the ceiling, unwilling to look at Kisame's face in anticipation of being told that he had gotten himself shitfaced and jumped into his sack.

Kisame reached over his head for something on the nightstand, "Here, drink up."

Something cool and hard was being pressed into his hand. When Itachi turned his head, he was greeted by a glass of water. Behind the glass he could see the faint outline of a sort of pill bottle, a small carton of something with a white and green label, and his glasses.

Itachi plucked his glasses from the nightstand and gingerly pushed himself into a sitting position, trying desperately to ignore the way his head throbbed in protest as his eyes blinked groggily to adjust to the world finally coming into focus. He claimed the water that was being handed to him, but found himself unable to drink it. Dread joined the nausea in the pit of his stomach like an impossibly heavy ball of antimatter. He could only imagine the moronic things he did in his intoxicated state – after what happened with Shisui…

"Nothing happened, Itachi," Kisame's voice was low and gentle, his hand tucking his bangs behind his ear, "All we did was sleep, I promise."

Sincerity rang in his words, and Itachi wanted to believe him, he _did_ …

The hand not rubbing slow circles into his back pushed on the bottom of the glass in a gentle command, "You'll feel better once you get some fluids in you."

It took an obscene amount of effort to remain suspicious and worried in his current state, so Itachi released a resigned sigh and brought the glass up to his lips.

Kisame was absolutely, undeniably correct.

Almost as soon as the cool water poured past his lips, the horrible dusty feeling in his mouth was washed away. There was still the weird bumpy texture in the center of his tongue that probably wouldn't go away for many more minutes, but Itachi could feel it unsticking itself from the roof of his dry mouth and that was good enough for him. The effect on his throat was just as soothing, his esophagus no longer felt like it was going to rip itself apart the next time he attempted speech.

As Itachi greedily sucked down the entire pint of water, it was almost as if his brain was soaking it all up like a sponge – he swore that he could feel it swell back up from a painfully shriveled state with each desperate gulp.

By the time the glass was empty Itachi was nearly out of breath and licking the excess moisture off of his parched lips like a… Like a whatever that licked their lips a lot. A dog, maybe, he didn't really care.

"There's more on the nightstand," Kisame took the empty glass from where it was sitting in his lap, "When you're feeling up to it, I made breakfast about an hour ago. It's sitting in the microwave."

The prospect of food made his stomach churn sickeningly, but Itachi turned his face towards the nightstand in eager search of more water. A disappointed grumble got caught in the back of his throat at the sight of the wax labels for coconut water even as he snatched up the one closest to him, which felt to be about half-empty. This was probably going to taste awful, like that aloe drink that Kisame bullied him into trying a week or so ago, but his mouth was beginning to feel dry again as his body absorbed the regular water and he wasn't up to complaining just yet.

As he brought the grooved plastic spout to his mouth, Kisame climbed out of the bed.

"I'll be right back," he said reassuringly.

Itachi made the mental note that he was wearing pants, which struck him as a little odd because Kisame was definitely the type of guy to sleep in his underwear with the flap of his boxers left unbuttoned. That part didn't really matter, though; what mattered was that Kisame was fully dressed.

They were both clothed. Nothing had happened.

He sighed in relief as he gulped down the room temperature water, which actually wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. There was definitely the distinct flavor of coconut but it was subtle enough for you to notice it without it being like a sweetened juice. When it was emptied, he dropped the carton on the nightstand and leaned into the headboard. As the rest of his body was reintroduced to liquid Itachi could almost feel his organs come back to life, and his nervous system seemed like it was coming back online as he began to take notice to the way his shirt felt against his chest, and the cool sensation of the air conditioning chilled the exposed skin of his arms.

It wasn't until Kisame returned with a refilled glass and a plate of food that Itachi even realized that his PlayStation had been turned on to Netlix. The volume of the television was set so low that it was only barely audible - probably to not disturb him.

A colorful omelet was set down on the nightstand next to the bottle of ibuprofen and the unopened container of coconut water, and Kisame wordlessly handed over the full glass he had retrieved before climbing back into bed, propping up a pillow to sit between his back and the headboard. There was an almost palpable tension between them, which was understandable, but Itachi still had yet to feel his higher functions reboot so he wasn't quite up to delving into what would be a most unpleasant conversation.

Instead, he released a soft sigh and scooted closer to the middle of the bed so that their sides touched, letting his head fall down to rest on one of Kisame's exceptionally broad shoulders. There was a small sense of satisfaction at the feel of his callused hand sliding over the top of Itachi's thigh, not squeezing or caressing, just holding him and reciprocating the silent affection. Itachi's head still throbbed a little, and his stomach spat like an angry cat at the prospect of food right now, but he knew that his hangover would have been infinitely worse had he not received the kind of care that Kisame provided.

How someone like him could have ever managed to win the affections of someone this caring was something that Itachi would probably never be able to understand. He was beginning to feel like he wouldn't ever find himself worthy of someone like Kisame, truth be told.

Still, Itachi couldn't keep himself from savoring the warmth in his chest that lifted the weight in his gut and soothed his aching back. Such a selfish man, he was.

After three episodes of _American Dad!_ – a reprehensibly immature cartoon that seemed to amuse Kisame to no extent – Itachi had finished his second glass of lukewarm water and was finally beginning to feel more alert and awake, or as alert as he would get without the aid of coffee. Gears in his head began to turn as he worked through different scenarios in his head to try to find a way to best approach the elephant in the room, though nothing seemed to be satisfying as much as,

"I'm sorry, Kisame."

Picking up the remote to turn the volume back down to the almost inaudible level it had been at before, Kisame sighed heavily and gave his thigh a gentle squeeze, "I am, too, baby. I shouldn't have hid something like that for you… Especially for not that long, and especially not after we started living together."

Living together… Itachi had never really thought about it like that – he mostly just felt like a visitor in someone else's house. But… They _were_ living together, weren't they?

Funny, how many steps you could accidentally end up skipping due to some unforeseen circumstances.

"I just… I know that some serious shit went down in your last relationship," Kisame continued, his voice thick with residual shame from their conversation on Friday, "Shisui gave me bits and pieces when I tried to figure out why you two jumped ship last year, but it was like he gave me the corner pieces to a one of those stupid five-thousand-piece puzzles that people frame and shit when they're done." The hand on Itachi's thigh slid away to wrap around one of his on top of the duvet, their fingers lacing together, "But I saw how comfortable you were with me. I… It made me feel like I made you feel safe, and I wanted that. I wanted you to feel like I could protect you."

" _Oh_ , Kisame…" Itachi set the glass aside so he could turn to face his boyfriend, folding his knees and resting them over his thigh, "You did – you _do_."

Kisame wouldn't meet his gaze, and he gave a half-hearted nod of acknowledgement as the muscles over his jaw flexed.

"My family and teachers always worried about me when I was a kid. All of my brothers and sisters were fit as a horse, but I had childhood asthma and diabetes so they were always dragging me to the doctor and locking me indoors, like I was gonna end up like my mom if the _sunlight_ hit me wrong." There was a touch of resentment in Kisame's voice, and his eyes tightened as he spoke, "I grew out of the asthma, but diabetes kinda _follows_ you so, even though my family eased up by the time I was a teenager, I still felt like I was being beaten. It pissed me off. I'd get real angry over stupid little shit, and I was always picking fights with people just so I could prove to myself that I wasn't as weak as I felt," a pause, "I got sent to juvy a couple of times for beating the hell out of people who didn't deserve it."

Itachi stayed silent, unsure of what exactly to say. The idea of Kisame being a delinquent was something that had had a lot of trouble wrapping his head around. Considerate, confident and infinitely patient were words that he would use to describe him, not violent and ashamed.

"Obviously, kids my age were kinda scared of me. Especially when I started getting piercings and tattoos. I didn't have any friends, so after a shit ton of therapy I just dropped out and got my GED so I could start working to get my DPT at UH."

"Why physical therapy?"

"When I was in high school, one of my sisters tore her ACL during a volleyball game. It messed her up pretty bad, but her physical therapist had her back out on the court in no time," the corner of Kisame's mouth tilted upwards, as if remembering a pleasant memory, "It was amazing. This guy was able to totally turn her around… The first time I saw her running snake drills on the beach with the rest of her team, I decided that I wanted to be for other people what her physical therapist was for her."

Well, it wasn't terribly uncommon for people with dark pasts to go into some kind of line of work that involved helping people. Many dieticians and psychologists admitted to having eating disorders and depression in the past, and some rehabilitated criminals went on to manage youth centers after being released from their detention center in the hopes of preventing kids ending up in their shoes. Itachi figured this wasn't too different, so he nodded in understanding and curled one of his arms around Kisame's to snuggle in closer.

"Anyways…" Kisame rested his cheek on top of Itachi's head with a sigh, "I still kinda struggle with coping with the way diabetes makes me feel. So, when I see how relaxed you get around me, I just…"

The muscles in Kisame's forearms corded as his hand briefly squeezed Itachi's, and he responded by tightening his own hold.

"I felt like, if you knew that I'm dependent on insulin injections, that you wouldn't see me as a guy you could depend on."

Yeah… Itachi sort of saw that coming. Still, he could help but pull away from where he was leaning into Kisame's body so that he could sit up on his knees, malaise making itself known in the furrow of his brow. Hurt filled Itachi's mouth like the bitter apple solution that dog owners sprayed on their furniture, but he didn't bother with entertaining the idea of voicing just how displeased he was that Kisame assumed his trust and feelings for him were so fickle. Instead, he only said,

"Kisame, what I feel with you isn't –"

"I know, baby, I know," Kisame finally met his gaze with his own, which was laden with guilt, "I just don't _think_ when I get like that."

Against his better judgment, which reminded him that he was exposing his scarred thigh, Itachi repositioned himself so that he was climbing over Kisame's lap, straddling him, and brought his hands up to rest over his chest.

"Kisame, listen to me," he started, voice soft, "A little less than a year ago, I honestly believed that there wasn't even the slightest possibility of me ever coming to trust anyone that wasn't Shisui. I made attempts to date casually few months later, but… I found myself feeling as if my skin was being burned if they so much as touched my _hand_ , and the prospect of _kissing_ , never mind being _intimate_ , made me so nauseous that I nearly vomited on more than one occasion…" Itachi's lips pressed together in disapproval at the memory of regurgitating his movie candy when one of his dates made the attempt to hug him from behind.

"But, _you_ happened – you suddenly appeared in my life and, for the first time, there was someone there that I _wanted_ to be with. I wanted to feel your arms around me…" Itachi leaned in to place a gentle kiss on the very corner of his mouth, "I wanted to learn what you tasted like, and how your lips felt, and… And I was so frightened by it that, sometimes, I couldn't even breathe."

Kisame's hands rose from where they were lying on the sheets to hold his clothed waist, but he stayed silent. Itachi's own slid up the length of his chest so he could lock his fingers around the back of his neck before pulling back just enough for their eyes to meet.

"The day you first helped me after the interview was when I realized just how much I trusted you, and just how safe you made me feel, and something as commonplace as you having diabetes couldn't _ever_ change that," Itachi paused long enough for his words to sink in before continuing with, "Knowing that you purposefully hid it, however, _that_ is the kind of thing that makes me second-guess how secure I feel with you."

Hurt and shame warred over Kisame's handsome features, warping his normally boyishly cheery demeanor into something almost completely unrecognizable to Itachi, and he could feel his pulse racing beneath the soft skin of his throat. It truly wasn't his intention to make him feel any worse about the situation than he already did, because Kisame was already looking ten years older than his age with stress, but Itachi was unsure of how else to explain his side of things.

Thankfully, Kisame found a way to read him in.

"He lied to you a lot?" he asked a little hoarsely, "The guy who r…" The word seemed to get caught in Kisame's throat, and his jaw snapped shut in response, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

Itachi felt his chest constrict as he nodded. He unlaced his fingers as he sat back on his heels, allowing his palms to trail down his chest at an unhurried pace until they were resting in their shared laps. He could feel Kisame's piercing gaze follow his fingers, and Itachi knew that his subtle guide had been successful when he heard the subsequent sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my – holy shit – _Itachi_ -" Kisame began to flounder for words, unable to form a complete, coherent sentence, at the sight of Itachi's bare thigh.

Milky white skin was littered with straight, even lines that varied in shades of mauve and brown, in silver and pink and white. Some were raised, some sunk in a little, and some were flat, all depending on how deeply the flesh there had been cut. Each scar was approximately four inches long, and there were so many that several had begun to overlap one another to create a macabre pattern of marred and discolored flesh that spoke of careful control.

One in particular stood out, however; it was the long, indented line of mauve that ran deep enough for the flesh around it to pucker in a little. It extended six inches down the inside of Itachi's thigh.

Kisame's fingertips grazed the mutilated skin tentatively, as if he was afraid of causing any more harm to the disfigurement, with an expression that looked devastated, nauseated and horrified all at once.

" _Baby_ , what _happened_..?"

Itachi took his hands in his own, cradling them in their laps both to ease some of Kisame's tension and to keep himself grounded.

"Do you remember, on our first date, how I said that many pianists become accompanists to other musicians?" he asked quietly. When Kisame nodded, he felt his shoulders slump a little and tightened his hands, "Do you know Chidori?"

Kisame's brow knitted in confusion, "Kakashi? Yeah, I know of him, but –" There was a look of realization that crossed his face, "You mentioned him before."

It was Itachi's turn to nod, "I met him for the first time when I was a part of Leaf Esports' training roster. At the time he was a part of their main lineup so, briefly, we shared a house. It didn't take long for me to learn that he was a violinist from Cincinnati, which isn't too far from Loveland, and we would frequently find ourselves spending our off time playing together.

"He left the organization for Team Anbu just a couple of months later, and we fell out of contact with one another not long after that," Itachi continued, keeping his eyes locked on their hands so he wouldn't have to meet Kisame's gaze, "When Shisui and I were traded from Mangekyo to Anbu, he acted as if our reunion was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to him. We spent every possible moment with one another in secret, like how you would imagine a couple to act in a forbidden romance film. He would encourage me to create my own pieces alongside him so we could play together, and to play outside of the sheet music, or we would lie on the floor with music playing, and spend hours talking about ourselves…"

In hindsight, it wasn't too different from how the brothel owner managed to sink his claws into him.

Itachi's expression darkened, "It was entirely one-sided, the sharing. He would weave the most elaborate accounts of his past that would bring me to tears, such as his father committing suicide in front of him and his childhood friend taking a bullet that was meant for him…" his entire body suddenly felt heavy, and the ache in his back flared in protest at the way his shoulders slouched over, "But they were only stories. Meanwhile, I was telling him about how Charles, the brothel owner, coerced me into becoming a prostitute, or how my father struck me before throwing me to the curb like unwanted garbage."

Kisame's entire body stiffened, and Itachi was pretty sure he stopped breathing now that he was beginning to fully understand why he overreacted so badly over his admission to not wanting to let Itachi know about his diabetes.

"I can't recall when it started but, after some months, he began to twist my past against me," he continued, voice hoarse, "He started to imply that I intentionally got myself disowned so I had a reason to get away from my father. He told me that I was so easily manipulated by Charles because I secretly _wanted_ to be paid to have as much anonymous sex as possible…"

The urge to break down into tears returned as Kisame listened to Itachi's voice struggle to form words, as if just the act of recalling every horrible thing that Kakashi had said was almost too much for him. His body was curling in on itself in an attempt to shrink away from the memories, and Kisame had no idea how to comfort him. He wanted to pull him into his chest, to bury his face in his pretty black hair and absorb his misery through a shower of kisses and love making but, not only was that absolutely unacceptable behavior, Kisame was almost afraid to lay a hand him. Itachi suddenly looked so small and frail that he felt like touching him would cause him to shatter into a million pieces.

"Once he knew that he had me wrapped around his finger… Once he was sure that I was so beaten down and persuaded into thinking that I was nothing but worthless trash, Kakashi began to put it in my head that..." Itachi trailed off, his expression twisting into a grimace.

Kisame's gut spasmed painfully.

"Shisui tried to put a stop to it once he realized what was going on. He saw what was happening and made an attempt to intervene, but…" Itachi's shoulders began to tremble, "Kakashi is a very intelligent individual. I was already so convinced that I was nothing but a burden to everyone around me that I started lying to Shisui as to not continue weighing him down with my problems."

Finally giving in to the urge, Kisame slid his hands out from between Itachi's to circle his arms around his slender waist, pulling him close enough for their hips to fit together like two perfectly made puzzle pieces.

"I don't... But, you're smarter than that, Itachi," he murmured into the shoulder where his face was buried, "You're so much _better_ than that - how -?"

"Love can make even the wisest of men a fool, Kisame," Itachi cut in dismissively, wiggling a little closer so their chests were touching. His arms came up to wrap around Kisame's neck, pillowing his head, "And just because I enunciate properly and speak in a somewhat articulate manner doesn't mean that I'm any more intelligent than anyone else. Otherwise I would not have made as many mistakes as I have in the last several years."

Kisame had no response to that, despite disagreeing as vehemently as he did. Itachi was perceptive, and talented, and had so much heart to give, and Kisame wanted nothing more than to spend the next hour pointing out all of the things he adored about him, but he knew that Itachi had no interest in hearing it.

A part of his heart tore away when the question of whether he'd beleve it or not came to mind. Did his past experiences mean that Itachi refused to believe anyone who said something kind to him?

His arms tightened protectively.

"During the Twitch party at MLG Columbus... I don't make a habit of drinking in excess during events, so I'm almost positive that something was slipped into my drink to make me pass out, but, when I woke up, Kakashi was forcing himself on me."

Reactively, Kisame pressed a kiss into the hollow of his shoulder. Speechless didn't even come close to describing how he felt. So much made sense now - the way Itachi reacted towards his invite to The Stray Sheep, how he kept a careful distance with everyone, how hostile Shisui was when he found out they got in a fight, his reaction towards being lied to, his fears about things being kept under wraps...

Understanding didn't make it easier to hear, though. A number of emotions flew through his consciousness. Shock, disbelief, horror, anguish, fury, a trickle of fear for Itachi... Kisame felt unsteady even as he shifted his weight into the headboard, raising his knees and planting his feet on the mattress for leverage. The position pulled Itachi forward so that he was leaning on his chest entirely. Kisame didn't know if it would make him uncomfortable or not, but he didn't know what else to do; he wanted to comfort Itachi somehow, to hold him tight enough until he forgot about what had been done to him...

Itachi finally started to stop trembling, so Kisame took that as a good sign.

"I drew the line there," he continued, "I went to management about it, to see about receiving help with pressing charges, but Danzo and Orochimaru refused to help. After the initial shock wore off I said that I would report everything to the authorities without them, to which they responded by threatening to file a defamation suit once they had the charges dropped."

Itachi felt Kisame start to grab him by the upper arms, but he kept his eyes averted when he was pushed back so he could give him a horrified look.

"Babe, what the _fuck_ \- that's - why the fuck would they _defend_ that piece of shit?!"

He shrugged listlessly, "Chidori has always been one of the biggest names in _Shippuden_. He makes more money for the organization through sponsorships and winnings than any other player in competitive gaming."

In other words, they essentially sold Itachi's body. Ironic.

"And... You kept quiet..?" Kisame's voice was uncharacteristically small and tight; it made Itachi feel like such a lowlife to hear him so clearly distressed.

He nodded slowly, only just enough for the movement to be noticed, "I felt so defeated by life that I... I gave up. When Kakashi would come into my room to take me, I wouldn't bother with struggling just so it would be over sooner..." a humorless laugh bubbled up, "I was always too weak to fight him off, anyways. It only made it hurt that much worse."

Itachi's eyes flitted up to get a look at Kisame's face and figure out whether or not to continue. To say the very least, he looked like he was the one that was suffering from a hangover: Kisame's normally tanned skin had paled several shades to a color that was almost sickly, his brow was knitted as if he was in pain, and his jaw was locked so tight that, for a moment, Itachi worried that he might crack a tooth.

A pang of guilt hit him square in the chest and he redirected his gaze to stare at his chest, which was rising and falling at an uneven pace with uncontrolled breathing. He didn't want to make Kisame feel like this. Being the one responsible for that boyish smile being wiped away... It was a truly miserable feeling.

Itachi shrugged out of Kisame's hands to lean back into his chest, needing to feel close to him again, needing to feel the warmth and safety that he provided.

It was silly, but Itachi always hurt a little less when he was held like this.

He buried his face into Kisame's neck when he felt one of his hands drop down to graze his thigh.

"So... This... Did _he_ do this..?" Kisame almost sounded afraid to hear the answer.

Itachi shook his head, feeling his heart break at the small noise Kisame made in the back of his throat.

"Itachi..."

"Piano used to be my therapy, Kisame," he explained, voice only slightly louder than a whisper, "Charles and Kakashi tainted the only thing that ever provided the catharsis I needed."

"So you turned to... To _cutting_ yourself?"

The tightness in his chest became almost suffocating at the sound of genuine heartache in Kisame's voice. Itachi snuggled closer, his arms coming up to bracket his waist, and tried to not wallow in the shame that burned hotly in his chest. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes in spite of his attempts at keeping his composure; Itachi wasn't as good as disassociating himself from a painful situation like he used to be.

"It was the only way I could sleep," he explained in a broken whisper, "I was so afraid of him that I..."

Focusing on the pain that he controlled, seeing the way his flesh slipped apart, watching the blood pool in the wound before it spilled over to paint his skin... The first time Itachi did it, he wasn't even thinking - his mind didn't register what was going on. Afterwards, he had been so terrified by his own actions that he found himself vomiting in the toilet before even attending to his still-weeping wounds. Despite the initial alarm, it provided the purgation Itachi's mind craved that nothing else could give him, and it wasn't long before it was a nightly habit.

Kakashi smirked when he saw them for the first time; he looked at the torn flesh like each mark was physical evidence of his dominance over Itachi.

His eyes slid shut as if he could block out the memory of that satisfied grin, of the way that low voice purred his name as if he wasn't aware of the way Itachi's eyes begged him to stop.

"One night, it simply wasn't enough."

Kisame drew in a shaking breath, "The hospitalization..." It wasn't a question.

One of Itachi's hands came up to run his fingertips along his collar bone. His fingers were trembling.

"You don't have to tell me, baby," Kisame whispered, tightening his arms around his back, "You've already told me enough to understand. You've been so strong, Itachi, you don't need to push yourself."

The words were so similar to how Shisui assured Itachi that his panic attack wasn't a step backwards that, momentarily, he was too stunned to respond. After a couple of seconds to collect himself, Itachi's hand grasped the strap of Kisame's racerback to anchor himself, nuzzling his throat and inhaling the familiar scent of whatever spicy body wash that always lingered on his person.

"But you'd like to know."

Kisame's lips pressed a kiss into his shoulder, "I won't lie and say I don't."

He nodded quietly, taking a deep breath to prepare himself, focusing on the rhythmic, only slightly higher than normal, heart beat that thrummed beneath his fingers. If Itachi looked close enough he could see his pulse throb in his neck.

"We had a pretty bad loss at the last chance qualifiers for Worlds last year against Will of Fire, so most of the team went out drinking after Danzo ripped into us for shoddy gameplay," he explained slowly, focusing on Kisame's steady breathing, "I took an Uber back to the house on my own to go to bed early and deal with the repercussions in the morning, and I think Shisui said he ended up going back to Tayuya's hotel for a few hours, so… I was alone when…"

Itachi paused to swallow against the lump in his throat, to no avail. "I remember waking up to the lights being flipped on, and then Kakashi was pulling me up from the pillow so Yamato could get behind me. I could smell the alcohol on their breaths, I could feel that they were both intoxicated in by how clumsy their movements were, but, even so, I was unable to fight off two of them at once – not when they had me from both sides."

Kisame felt his blood run cold. He felt sick. He didn't want to hear this. Leaning his head back so that it thunked against the wall, hoping it would somehow make breathing easier, he tried to blink away the moisture that burned at his eyes.

"Yamato and Kakashi are best friends – have been for years – so when Kakashi told him that my struggling was a part of a rape fetish I had, Yamato believed him without so much as a second thought. I can only assume that the lie was made more believable by the alcohol in his system…" Itachi ground his forehead into Kisame's collar, "I'll spare you the sordid details, but they… They both…"

A choked sob escaped Kisame's throat. This wasn't happening. People… People couldn't be that cruel and _get away with it_. Or, at least, that's what he wanted to believe, even as the man in his arms began to quiver as he retold a memory this horrific.

"According to Kakashi, double penetration was yet _another_ fetish of mine, so they didn't even bother with taking turns," Itachi explained with an understandable contempt dripping from his voice, "They were so drunk that I don't believe either of them noticed the amount of blood that was on their bodies."

Itachi could hear Kisame's heart racing in his chest, probably no faster than his own, and he could feel his chest heave and shake as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back his silent sobs. He decided to leave that particular story where it was. He himself was unsure of whether or not he'd be able to continue, anyways, when most of his memories were only focused on the pain that had ripped through his body.

"Once they were finished… I was positive that this was all my life would ever amount to," he nearly whispered, hating himself for the way his voice wavered, "Once my family disowned me, everything only continued to move into a downwards spiral, and I was convinced that all I would ever be was someone's plaything – a toy that they could do what they pleased with… And I just decided that I was done."

He remembered how a soothing, rolling tranquility settled over his mind even before Itachi had made the conscious decision to go into the bathroom, like his consciousness had accepted his fate before he even realized what he had decided to do. Finally, Itachi had made a decision for himself.

At just the reminder, he felt his muscles relax a little as if he were reliving the mind-numbing serenity that carried him to the bathroom.

"I remember thinking how things were only going to get worse, and it would only be a matter of time before I was a homeless drug addict panhandling on the streets of Seattle, offering my body as currency for anything to get me by…" Itachi sighed, "So I drew a bath, took Danzo's straight razor from under the sink, sharpened it while the water filled, and… And I severed my femoral artery."

_"Hah! Sorry, man, didn't realize you were…"_

_Itachi's head lolls to the side, resting into the curved corner of the tub, so he could turn his impassive gaze on his best friend. In his already disoriented state, he couldn't quite register that it was completely obvious what was happening, and that he had been caught._

_"Shit,_ _**shit** _ _," Shisui's voice takes on an almost keening tone as he rushes away from the doorway, so fast that Itachi could swear that he saw an afterimage of him still leaning on the doorjamb, over to the bathtub, snatching a towel off of the rack. "Oh god, oh_ _**fuck** _ _–" a small, hysterical sound sticks in his throat as he grabs both of Itachi's wrists, turning them over for cuts, until his eyes drop to the cloudy pink water._

_Itachi only barely registers that he's being hauled up, one of his arms somehow having been slung over Shisui's shoulders at some point, until his body leaves the warm safety of the water and is exposed to the cool air that felt colder than normal. He grimaces, and his lips tumble over incoherent syllables in protest._

_"_ _**Yugao** _ _!" Shisui cries as he set his friend down on the fluffy grey bath mat, which almost immediately begins to stain crimson. He starts to fumble with his belt. That was a weird way to respond to the situation._

_No less than two seconds later, there's the sound of a door slamming open and footsteps racing down the carpeted hall._

_Tears are already slipping from Shisui's eyes, some clinging to his absurdly lengthy lashes. Itachi always liked his eyelashes – they were so long and pretty and curled outwards like a cat's. He finally manages to pull off his belt and begins to wrap it around Itachi's upper thigh, which is when he finally realizes what's going on._

_"What's wrong –" The scene is enough to cause Yugao to scream. Itachi imagines it must look pretty gruesome – him, naked, blood all over his legs and parts of his hands, Shisui's forearms quickly becoming covered in red as he tightens his makeshift tourniquet, the bathtub filled with bloody water that dripped over the sides._

_She understands why she's been called, however, and wastes no time in pulling out her phone._

_"Hello? Yes – I – I'm at three-eight-six Root Circle, in San Jose, a-and we need an ambulance. I think my teammate tried to kill himself." Her explanation trails off into panicked tears as she watches Shisui press the towel into the wound. "I – I don't… I don't know, there's blood, and a knife – oh my_ _**god** _ _he cut his_ _**leg open** _ _."_

_Itachi huffs out a little laugh. He wants to make a joke about Shisui being an ugly crier as something about a bulldog crosses his mind, but he can't seem to find the words. Or, rather, he has the words but his mouth won't seem to form them._

_"Itachi, I'm sorry, I'm so_ _**sorry** _ _," Shisui sobs, keeping both hands on either side of Itachi's thigh to keep the pressure strong._

_He furrows his brow a little. Why would he be sorry…?_

_"I knew shit was bad… I knew he wasn't treating you right, but I didn't… I…" his head droops to hang between them as his shoulders heave, "I didn't_ _**know** _ _\- I didn't think it was_ _**like** _ _this! I'm_ _**sorry** _ _, I should've…" Shisui looks back up to meet his unfocused gaze, "Itachi, why didn't you_ _**tell** _ _me?!"_

_Because he was always taking care of Itachi...Why would be continue to burden him with his pile of trash of an existence?  
_

_Itachi tries to open his mouth to explain, to tell him that he isn't worthy of being his friend and that it was better this way, but his lips still seem to be stuck together. He wants to raise his hands to comb them through Shisui's incessantly tangled curls, to tell him that everything was going to be fine now, but his hands won't move._

_It's like he's a comatose patient – capable of hearing and seeing the world around him but unable to respond to anything._

_That's when Itachi feels his eyelids start to droop, and he realizes that he's utterly exhausted. It makes sense, given that Kakashi woke him up at three in the morning, but as soon as his eyes slide shut, Yugao shrieks and Shisui almost whimpers._

_"Shit – no, no,_ _**no** _ _, don't fuckin' close your eyes," he says a little too quickly, "Don't fall asleep. Don't you_ _**fucking** _ _fall asleep, Itachi."_

_After a couple of beats Itachi's lashes manage to flutter open, but he can't keep himself upright anymore. Thankfully Shisui's fast enough to keep him from cracking his head on the tile and pulls him into his chest, both of his knees raised so he can cradle him as he leans into the wall._

_"Oh god, Itachi, I'm so sorry, all of this is my fault," Shisui sobs into his hair, "_ _**I** _ _convinced you to move to Nevada,_ _**I** _ _had you join Leaf with me, I'm sorry –_ _**I'm so fucking sorry** _ _…"_

_Three more figures appear in the doorway as Shisui breaks down into rambling that's made unintelligible from his lips being pressed into Itachi's forehead. Yamato looks like he's about to vomit, Orochimaru is pulling Yugao to the side to speak in hushed whispers, and Kakashi's entire face blanches and he presses his hands to his stomach._

_Itachi hardly notices. He peers up at Shisui, at his best friend. Of_ _course_ _none of this is his fault; Shisui's only ever been the best friend anyone could ever ask for; he was Itachi's only_ _true_ _family. How could he ever think otherwise?_

_By the time the medics usher the others out of the way, Itachi had already fallen asleep._

Kisame didn't respond once Itachi's story came to an end. He only tilted his head down to bury his face into Itachi's hair, but Itachi decided at that moment that he was going to turn his face upwards to bring their lips together. Kisame didn't bother with toying with his hesitation this time – he returned the kiss rough and hard, breathing harshly through his nose, and squeezed him tightly as if he'd disappear if he let go.

Itachi shifted and brought his legs up on either side of Kisame's body so that he was sitting in his lap instead of straddling him. His knees were sore from being bent for so long and his toes were numb from the lack of blood flow, but the discomfort hardly even registered in Itachi's mind as both of his hands slid up to grasp fistfuls of Kisame's hair. He pulled hard and crushed their lips together, though Kisame didn't seem to mind because his arms were nearly crushing Itachi to his chest hard enough for him to know that he would walk away from this with bruises.

Itachi's lungs were burning in protest from the lack of oxygen. He wasn't sure if it's from the iron grip Kisame held him in or if it's because of how fiercely their lips were clashing. It felt like any breath he tried to take was being stolen, sucked up by Kisame, whose mouth was bearing down on his with an intensity that left him dizzy.

As the need for air became too great, Itachi dropped his head back and Kisame doesn't bother with waiting for an invitation before his lips are pressing open-mouthed, lush kisses down his throat, the edges of his surprisingly sharp teeth nipping and grazing along his skin.

Itachi couldn't seem to get a lungful of oxygen, though, and it wasn't because of how it felt as if Kisame was trying to pull him _into_ his body.

It was because he was crying.

"Please..." he uses his grip on Kisame's hair to press his face closer to where he was sucking on his pulse, a sob wrangling its way up his throat, "Kisame, _please_ , I - I..."

Without needing any further instruction, Kisame hauled him up and rose up on his haunches in one swift movement before dropping Itachi back onto the mattress and covering him with his own body. He let Itachi yank him down so that they were pressed flush against one another, and one of his hands slid up the length of his body, fingers rising and falling with each rib they passed, to firmly mold around the curve of his jaw.

Both of Itachi's legs came up to wrap around Kisame's waist and his ankles locked behind his hips, like he could somehow press their bodies any closer than they already were if he used every ounce of strength he had. He needed to be closer - he _needed_ to feel Kisame on him, around him, filling his senses, and -

A hand, large and rough, came down between their bodies to wrap around his wrist; Itachi blinked his confusion at Kisame, who was looking down at him with a tortured expression. It took a few attempts to work past the choked sobs that continued make breathing difficult, but eventually he managed to croak out, "Kisame..."

Itachi's pleading tone only made his fingers squeeze tighter as Kisame pulled his hand away from where it had begun to slip under the waistbands of his sweatpants and boxers.

"You know I want you, baby... But not like this," he murmured.

Hot tears continued to stream down into his hairline, though now Itachi wasn't sure if it was because he's desperate, ashamed or because of the pain that ripped through his chest at the memory of what it was like to live with Kakashi. His head fell to the side, too embarrassed to meet Kisame's gaze.

"I..." Itachi swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry as a bone, "I want to remember what it's like to _want_ it..."

"You _don't_ want it, though," Kisame released his wrist so his fingers could return to the soft locks of black hair that were strewn across the sheets like a river delta, "You're not yourself right now. You just wanna distract yourself from what you're feeling, and... I'm not okay with that," he chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Besides, I'm not a _maniac_. You think I can get it up after that?"

As if able to sense the shame that ripped through his chest, Kisame sighed heavily and leaned back down to press slow, tender kisses along his brow. "Itachi, if we ever get to that point…" he started softly, "I promise, I'll be as slow and gentle as you need me to be, and you'll want it _just_ as badly as I do," Kisame's lips followed the trail of tears that soaked Itachi's temple, "And I promise you'll be in control of everything that happens," he kissed his dampened hair, "But it'll be when our heads are clear, and our emotions haven't been run raw over the last few days. I want us both to be rational when it happens."

Itachi's lip trembled, and he caught it between his teeth to bite down savagely. So fucking _stupid_ …

"Baby," Kisame touched their foreheads together, "You know I'm afraid of the dark?"

"Beg… Your pardon?"

He nodded, "Mhm. Scares the shit out of me. I was the one that put in all of those nightlights in the halls. I even bought a special lamp that's got a dimmer so I can sleep with it on all night."

For the second time that morning – or afternoon, he had yet to look at a clock – Itachi blinked in confusion at the older man. "But… _Why_?" he asked, more curious than anything else. It wasn't as if it was common for a man in his thirties to be afraid of the dark…

A sheepish smile broke out on Kisame's face, and he rolled off of Itachi's body to lay next to him on his back.

"My oldest sister and brother were major horror junkies. They always made me watch movies with them. Ruined me for fuckin' life – I always feel like some spooky ghost bitch'll appear next to my bed, or the boogie man will get me."

Itachi snorted delicately into his wrist, "Oh no, I made you watch all of those horror pictures –" he gasped, half-laughing, "I made you play _Fatal Frame_ with me!"

In their spare time Itachi had actually become quiet addicted to the series that Sasuke bought for him. He found himself frequently glued to Shisui's PlayStation 3, brow furrowed as he wandered the halls in search of hidden and vanishing ghosts that only appeared on certain nights. When he became stuck with a puzzle, he sometimes asked Kisame to help him, and he couldn't figure out why he always looked so tense…

Kisame chuckled with him, "Yeah, _thanks_ for that."

"Oh, oh this…" Itachi covered his face with both hands to laugh into his palms, "I am _so_ sorry, why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged, "You were enjoying yourself, and I'm a big boy. I can handle myself. Besides…" Kisame grinned coyly and slid his arm under Itachi's neck so that his head was nestled into his shoulder, "It gave me a reason to cuddle up with you."

Itachi's eyes rolled and he playfully smacked him on the chest, "And here I was thinking you were just trying to feel me up because you like my butt."

"Oh, no, I sure as shit _love_ your butt, babe." With his free hand, Kisame made a grabbing motion, "It's all nice and round and, oh my _god_ ," he growled playfully and flashed that boyish smirk, "It's so perfect."

Slender eyebrows drew inwards in disgust, "I'm pretty sure I've been gaining weight, so you might as well take a picture now while I'm still pretty – holy _crap_ , my head hurts."

Out of nowhere, a wave of pain washed over Itachi's skull. There was a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed against his skull like the bass at an EDM party in an abandoned warehouse, and it had come on so strong that Itachi was momentarily blinded.

Kisame carefully slid out from under him to get on his knees and reach of the CVS bottle of ibuprofen, "I can imagine. We probably should've waited to have that talk until after your hangover," he popped the cap off and spilled a couple of tablets into his palm.

Oh… Right. For just a moment, Itachi had actually totally forgotten what they were just talking about. He frowned at the reminder, "Kisame, I'm sorry –"

"You've got literally nothing to apologize for, Itachi," he said warmly, eyeing the forlorn omelet on the nightstand, "Other than for wasting my talents, if you don't eat this."

That was when he realized that Kisame had brought up the nightlight thing as an attempt to pull him out of his depressed head space. Itachi forced a smile for his sake and pushed himself up into a sitting position with his arms outstretched, "You know I most likely won't be able to eat all of this. You made enough food to feed an entire family."

"Just don't puke again and we're good."

When Itachi's eyebrows climbed up into his hairline, Kisame chuckled and turned back to sit against the headboard, "Yeah, you threw up a couple times last night. Scared the hell outta me when you almost whacked your head on the sink at Ihop."

Groaning, Itachi joined him with a pillow between his back and the headboard, "I have no interest in hearing more. I already feel like a moron as things currently stand."

"Don't be," Kisame handed over the ibuprofen and the opened carton of coconut water, "As long as it isn't something that happens all the time, I don't mind taking care of you. You didn't really do anything, anyways. You mostly just bitched about wanting McDonald's."

Kisame decided that it would be best to leave out the blowjob offer and his reaction to being rejected.

"Even so…" Itachi rested his head on his shoulder, "Thank you, Kisame… You don't understand how much all of this means to me – not just last night, but everything."

Kisame's expression softened. He pressed a kiss into the top of his head, "You know I'd do anything for you, Itachi. But, you're welcome."

Honestly... No, Itachi hadn't known that. Looking up from his plate of food, he looked up to meet Kisame's gaze, idly wondering if there'd ever come a time where he would find himself used to the intensity that burned in his peculiar eyes. He knew that Kisame at least cared about him enough to essentially babysit him when he was inebriated, but Itachi... He never realized how serious Kisame must be about them. It simply never occurred to him that someone was actually capable of, well, giving a damn.

Itachi felt guilty, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

After turning Netflix back on – it had shut off due to the console being idle – the two spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around in bed and talking a whole lot about nothing in particular. Itachi only managed about half of the omelet, which was quite delightful and full of green onions, tomatoes, avocado, cheese and black beans, but finished off the second container of coconut water. Eventually he convinced Kisame to give up _American Dad!_ for _The Twilight Zone_ , to which he complained about for the first couple of episodes before becoming comically quiet and intensely focused.

By the time Itachi's headache wore off he was feeling quite sleepy. Kisame was warm, the sheets were soft, the light trickling in from the window was casting the room in a warm glow, and his tummy was full of his boyfriend's delicious cooking. He placed the plate and carton on the floor before snuggling down into the blankets, curling into a ball and resting his head in Kisame's lap, who seemed to be surprised for only a moment before his fingers were lazily running up and down his back.

When Itachi fell back asleep to sleep away the rest of his hangover, he was feeling contently spoiled and the most relaxed he had felt in years.


	13. Chapter 12

Soft patters floated through Itachi's room, blending in to the gentle music that graced the air. _Clair de Lune._ It may be cliche, but it was one of Itachi's favorite pieces from Debussy, and it perfectly set the mood for the book he held in his hands as he lounged on the bed that afternoon.

Earlier that morning Kisame announced that he was spending his Saturday with Juzo, one of his old teammates from Seven Swords, at the beach to get some long-overdue surfing in but, as fate would have it, a particularly nasty storm had rolled in just a couple hours after their arrival. He called to let Itachi know that he was fine and wasn't drowning in what was practically a tropical storm, but he wouldn't be getting home until late because Juwo offered to go to an aquarium nearby, so there Itachi was, listening to the sounds of a storm while re-reading _Goth_ by Ostuichi on his own.

Days like this could be nice, he decided. Everyone needed some time alone, especially when you lived with nearly a dozen others, and Itachi had a thing for rainy days that put him in the kind of moods where he could play piano for hours on end, or read an entire book cover to cover.

Unfortunately for him, Sasuke had other plans.

"Hey, you."

There was something in the background, like white noise but much louder, and Sasuke's voice sounded strained when he asked, _"You busy?"_

Itachi slowly looked up from his book to stare at the wall at the unusually heavy tone, "Not at all."

_"Look, if you've got something going on -"_

"Sasuke, I promise I have nothing inescapable going on. If you must know, I am reading a novel and listening to music."

On the other end of the line, Sasuke fell silent. There were a handful of seconds that were full of nothing but whatever was causing that insufferable dull roar in the background of the call but, after a sigh, he cleared his throat and said, _"I... Can I see you? Now?"_

Itachi immediately snapped his book shut and chucked it onto the duvet, unfolding his crossed legs to start clambering off of the bed, "Just tell me where you are." Nagato and Konan went off in their car, and Deidara was out with Sasori, but he could probably convince Kyusuke to hand over his Camry for a few hours, or he could try to see if there were any Lyfts available in the middle of this storm.

_"I'm outside."_

Oh. Well, that simplified things.

"I'll be out in a moment."

Itachi's stomach started to progressively sink down to his feet as he stuffed his phone in his pocket and slipped down the hall. He didn't mean to overreact, especially not after his absurd reaction to Kisame's confession last month, but there was something about Sasuke's voice that genuinely bothered him. While Sasuke normally came off as a kid that endured more stress than someone than just midterm exams, right now he sounded... Shaken.

Once the front door was opened, it was obvious that his worries weren't entirely unsubstantiated.

Sasuke was lingering on the sidewalk in a t-shirt and jeans, both of his hands hanging limp by his sides. Rain had plastered his hair to his forehead and cheeks and weighed down his spikes so that the nape of his neck was hidden by black tendrils dripping water down his skin in thick rivulets. When he turned away from Konan's garden to face the front of the house, Sasuke's complexion was an alarming shade of white and Itachi had to tell himself that it was more than likely due to the cold rain and not some sort of irreversible trauma.

"Sasuke, what on Earth -" He froze with one arm outstretched, one hand frozen in the air that Sasuke's shoulder had just been occupying just a second prior, before he recoiled from Itachi's touch.

He didn't look up from where he was staring at the side of the house. Dark, slender eyebrows were drawn in so that the skin between them crinkled, his lips were pressed into a thin line, and the skin around his eyes was tight. Sasuke stood perfectly still, as if his muscles had been replaced with steel cables that wavered only slightly with the strong breeze of the storm.

Fear, cold and sickening, wound itself around Itachi's insides to squeeze his guts. "Sasuke, tell me what happened."

White lips parted as if trying to say something, but Sasuke could only manage a shaky exhale as his lashes fluttered against the rain that poured down on both of them. He tried again, then a third time, his mouth opening and closing as if he was gasping for air, but each time Sasuke only looked more and more pained. When Itachi reached out for him a second time he took a step back onto the driveway so that he was out of arm's length, shame and disgust emanating off of his person.

Itachi felt his composure begin to slip as his blood ran cold.

Not him.

Anyone - _anyone_ but him.

"Sasuke, did someone _hurt_ you..?" he asked weakly.

He should have been more adamant on Sasuke joining another team. He should have done more to keep him away from that greedy, wretched, worm of a human being - he should have said something, warned him, explained what happened -

Silently, Sasuke shook his head, curling his hands into tight fists. The gesture should have alleviated some of the panic that trickled through Itachi's veins, but it didn't. What could have this boy so upset that he wasn't barking obscenities, but silent and withdrawing in on himself like this?

After what felt like an eternity of standing in a freezing rain that Itachi hardly felt, Sasuke opened his mouth and asked, "Do you feel sorry for me?"

Shock, confusion and panic kept him quiet for a handful of seconds that each ticked by in what felt like slow motion. By the time Itachi finally realized what exactly had been asked, Sasuke was already starting to curl in on himself.

"What? Sasuke - of _course_ not," Itachi took a step forward and felt his mind calm infinitesimally when he didn't flinch away from the hands that cupped his jaw, "What happened? Why would you think that?" Had he done something? Itachi didn't remember saying anything that could imply otherwise, but if he had...

"I got into a fight... With Tayuya over stupid shit about laundry," Sasuke explained hoarsely, his words coming out in short bursts in an unmistakable attempt at keeping himself together, "She said that my parents... My parents dodged a bullet by 'Getting rid of me before figuring out I was a useless fuck...'"

Itachi gently pushed his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, biting his lip to keep silent. Tayuya's attitude was something that was well known to the _Shippuden_ community - reports of her suspensions and fines for harassment seemed to occur once a season - but that was exceptionally low, even for an insufferable person like her.

"I didn't care until Orochimaru stepped in - I thought he was gonna break us up like usually does with the others, but... He said that you only stayed in contact with me because you pitied the 'Poor orphan boy with no friends' and, I just..." Sasuke's expression twisted into a grimace, "He told me that you were talking about me behind my back, and that you only stuck around because you felt like you had to."

Itachi's tone left no room for argument. "Sasuke, get out of that house."

The teenager finally looked up from staring into nothingness to meet Itachi's hard gaze, "What..?"

He let his hands slide down Sasuke's neck to that they smoothed over his shoulders, "Orochimaru is a disgusting, vile man that will spread lies to get what he wants, and he's preying on your insecurities to isolate you from me. You need to get away from him."

Sasuke looked bewildered, "Why the fuck would he want to do that?"

Itachi pulled him into his chest, gathering him in his arms as his heart finally began to return to a normal pace, "Because he knows I won't allow him do to you what he let happen to me," he tried to rest his chin on top of Sasuke's head, only to realize that he had grown just a tad too tall. Instead, Itachi pressed his cheek against the side of his head with a gusty sigh that expelled only a fraction of his tension.

"I'm still under contract. I have to live with the team until the end of the season, and it isn't as if I have any place to _go_..."

"Sasuke, I will pay your breaching fees," he assured him, "I'll handle everything for you." He didn't have much, not when his bank account was only just now recovering from the suicide attempt that landed him in a hospital for a week, but Itachi imagined that breaching fees couldn't amount to too much, and it would get him away from Orochimaru, so it was worth it. 

Itachi tried to keep his voice steady, to not allow his fear for Sasuke to leak into his tone, but it was becoming more and more onerous as visions of Sasuke being harmed flashed through his mind's eye. He didn't know what he would do if Sasuke showed up like this, in the middle of the rain and completely unannounced, to tell him that his coach, the same man that groped him at industry parties and enabled a rapist, attacked him or hurt him in some irreparable way.

Just the thought of it made Itachi's chest hurt. His stomach twisted. His eyes burned.

Sasuke's hands came up to grip the back of Itachi's shirt, " _Why_..? Why do you even _care_?" It sounded as if he was trying to sound angry, but the delivery was ruined by the way his voice cracked; Itachi could hear the unspoken need for him to be told that Orochimaru was wrong.

"Because I _do_ , Sasuke," he murmured, "You being important to me is reason enough for me to care about what happens to you."

Something Orochimaru no doubt discovered by stalking their social media; they both enjoyed sharing pictures and Vines taken of their time together, and Sasuke had spent a handful of evenings at the Akatsuki house so Itachi knew that he had to have shown up in at least a few of the videos that were posted to the organization's official YouTube channel.

Itachi tightened his embrace around Sasuke's shoulders, "You _are_ important to me, Sasuke, you are one of the most precious people in my life," he pressed a kiss into his dripping hair, "And I do not think so low of you as to think that you are in need of my pity. So, don't ever listen to anyone that attempts to convince you otherwise. Do you understand?"

Without answering, Sasuke buried his face into his neck. Itachi could feel his breath, which came in shallow, ragged gasps, puffing against his skin, and Itachi was reminded of the moment when he had taught him how to tie a tie. He felt tired, sagging into him as he did. Fragile.

Scared.

He rubbed slow circles between Sasuke's shoulder blades, noting how he could feel the knotches of his spine a little easier than before. Was he not eating?

Itachi held him tighter.

"Now that we are thoroughly drenched, let's get you inside," he said once Sasuke's shoulders had stilled, and his breathing evened out, "My words are meaningless if you come down with a cold because of me."

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be released and guided to the door, though Itachi could feel him hovering just a couple of inches behind.

"Would you like a shower?" Itachi asked while peeling his t-shirt away from his chilled body, "You can borrow my clothes."

Sasuke watched him wring out his shirt for a moment before following suit, "Sure. Thanks."

Even if his response was stiff, it was only slightly more uncomfortable than any other time he accepted anyone's help. Itachi watched him as they rolled up the bottom of their jeans, noting how his shoulders weren't as slumped as they were before, and he moved a little more fluidly when climbing the stairs. By the time they made it to Itachi's bedroom, though, the improved light allowed him to see that Sasuke's eyes were bloodshot and his eyes were ringed in dark bruises; Itachi wondered when Sasuke last got a good night's rest.

"Okay, this is bothering me," he said with a suddenness and volume that nearly made Itachi jump out of his skin. When he whirled away from his closet to blink owlishly at him, Sasuke gestured at his torso, "Why is only one pierced?"

Itachi glanced down at his chest, where a single black barbell adorned one of his nipples. He looked up with a smirk, "Shisui decided that, to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, we would get matching piercings of my choice."

Sasuke furrowed his brow, "And you decided... To get _one_ nipple ring."

"Oh, don't be mistaken, my plan was for us to have both of my nipples pierced. However..." he turned back to his open closet to pull two shirts from their hangers, "Even though we paid in advance, Shisui decided he couldn't go through with it after the first piercing," Itachi tossed a shirt in his direction, "I didn't want him to feel bad."

A surprisingly loud laugh was Sasuke's response, "Oh, oh my god - you're _kidding_!" he pressed the hand holding the t-shirt to his belly, "Please - oh god - please tell me he cried." Itachi's smirk widened, and Sasuke nearly doubled over to giggle like a baby hyena, "You know I gotta give him shit for this."

Itachi poked his forehead as he crossed the room to open up his dresser, "Be gentle, you. Shisui is sensitive and I would rather not have to perform damage control because of your incessant teasing."

He took the jeans handed to him and checked the tag for the size, still chuckling to himself, "As _if_. You know how many time he's called my hair a duck butt?"

"Ducks are cute."

Sasuke pouted.

* * *

"Itachi, the fuck are you doing?"

Itachi frowned at the dough he was kneading, "If you insist on using that kind of language I have no qualms about holding you down and washing your mouth out with soap." How was it that he managed to only ever surround himself with people that had the mouth of a drunk trucker?

Sasuke snorted, "With those noodle arms? Shisui damn near broke your _wrist_ when you two arm wrestled over the last cookie in the house."

Setting the ball of dough in a glass bowl, the elder of the two grinned, "You'd be surprised. Kisame is a superb personal trainer." To prove his point, he raised one arm and flexed. It wasn't much, but it was enough to boast about in a situation like this.

"Uh huh. You never answered my question."

"This, dear Sasuke," Itachi gestured with flourish at the assortment of food that were placed in a grid-like fashion on the kitchen island, "Will be nikuman."

Sasuke didn't look impressed, "Why?"

"Are you not hungry?"

As if on cue, the teenager's stomach rumbled.

Itachi smiled and stretched plastic wrap over the bowl, "This was one of my favorite foods growing up. My mother would make them in batches for me and put them in my lunch box throughout the week."

"That's cute and all, but why are you _cooking_?" Sasuke spat out the word as if it was the name of a federal offense, "Shit, Itachi, if you're hungry then we can go out. Or order pizza. Or something that doesn't involve you brandishing a _knife_ \- !" he grabbed the cutlery block and slid it away from the hand that was reaching for a santoku knife.

Nodding at the sliding glass door, which provided an open view to the patio that was home to a rapidly filling pool, Itachi leaned over the island to retrieve the knife set, "I am _not_ letting you drive in this weather, and I won't ask a stranger to."

"Oh, okay, so instead of me dying on the highway, you want me to die in the kitchen," Sasuke drawled.

Itachi sighed and rested both of his hands on counter, nodding at the open webpage on his phone, "I am not so inept in the kitchen that I am incapable of following a recipe."

Blue eyes narrowed.

The truth was, he had been trying to teach himself how to cook since a couple of weeks after Sasuke shared the story of his quesadilla nightmare. Itachi went to the internet to get some help with making cookies while Kisame was at the gym and, since then, he had been waking up a little earlier than usual to try his hand at certain recipes he had found on YouTube. Cooking was an exact science he had learned, and Itachi did particularly well in chemistry, so, in theory, it should have been a cake walk.

For some abominable reason that wasn't exactly the case - everything came out just off enough to irritate him - but he had yet to burn anything too badly for it to deter him from trying new things.

"If it brings you any reassurance, there is a fire extinguisher in the pantry."

It was mostly meant as a joke, but Sasuke's shoulders actually relaxed a little and the tension in his forehead lessened, "Fine, but I'm cutting the vegetables."

"Well, I hear chink-speak so I guess you've got the brat over," a familiar voice called down the hall.

Both of them bristled, their lips parted in shock at the use of blatant racism.

"Y'anno, it's bad enough that you gotta commit sin right in front of me with the Polynesian Hulk," Hidan continued as he turned the corner into the kitchen, swaying ever so slightly, "But do you really gotta bring out the ching chong just 'cause you're both Chinese?"

" _Japanese_ , you racist piece of -"

"Yeah, like I give a fuck, Data," he said disinterestedly while sauntering over to the refrigerator.

Sasuke scoffed, "A _Goonies_ reference? C'mon, you can -"

"Sasuke," Itachi rounded the island to put himself between him and Hidan, who was rifling through for something, "I think he is inebriated. Don't poke the bear."

Beer in hand, Hidan slammed the heavy metal door shut and spun around to face them, looking positively irritated, "See? _That's_ what I'm talkin' about. You faggots keep using Asian just 'cause you can. It's fucking _rude_ ," he cracked the can open and made his way over to where they were standing, seemingly unaware of how Itachi slowly guided Sasuke back towards the kitchen entrance, "You're in America. Go to church, and speak English like the rest of us!"

The knowledge of Hidan's rather extremist take on traditional Christian views was nothing new to Itachi, but he had no idea that he was even remotely prejudiced, never mind this shockingly, aggressively racist. Taking a closer look at his person, his eyes weren't bloodshot and his words weren't slurring so it wasn't likely that he was high or more than just a little tipsy from a few beers... It seemed that he was merely in an especially bad mood for some reason or another, and no one was around to strong-arm him into acting like a decent human being.

"I'm so fucking sick of people like you. You're what's wrong with this country," Hidan gestured at Itachi specifically, "Fuckin' taking it up the ass from another man while stealing jobs from good Americans. You _wanna_ be sent to Hell in a hand basket?"

"Oh, _fuck you_ -"

"Hidan, that is enough," Itachi responded coolly, stretching his arm out to stop Sasuke from rushing over to presumably attack him, "You are acting completely out of line. We did nothing to provoke this."

Hidan rolled his eyes and smoothed back his grey hair, "Yeah, what-the-fuck-ever. What're you gonna do, cry to your boyfriend? Make him do the work for you like you always do?" he scoffed, "You know, you're pretty good at wrapping him around your skinny finger, for being useless trash-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before a fist connected with his cheekbone. Something cracked just a beat before he pirouetted down to the tiled floor and, judging by the white-hot flash that raced up to his wrist, Itachi was pretty sure it was something in his hand and not something in Hidan's face.

Speaking of Hidan, he pulled himself up to his feet just a few seconds later - Itachi was getting the assumption that this wasn't his first time getting punched in the face - and rushed forward. When Sasuke tried to put himself between them, he took the teenager by the throat against the wall.

An ume-red haze settled over Itachi's vision. Without missing a beat, Itachi ignored the pain in his hand as he grabbed the back of Hidan's shirt, using his good one to squeeze his wrist hard enough for him to release Sasuke, twisting his arm back and bending it up towards his shoulder blades.

"Ow! Fuck!" Hidan's knees buckled and splashed into the beer he had spilled when he fell just moments before.

"Do _not_ touch him," Itachi hissed, "Your problem is with _me_."

"Whoa - _whoa_ \- what the _hell_ is going on in here?!" Yahiko's voice cut through the air before Hidan could respond as he entered the kitchen from the garage door, Konan and Nagato in tow.

Itachi released the arm he was twisting hard enough to nearly cause a spiral fracture and took a step back, turning towards Sasuke, "Are you alright?" he asked a little breathlessly.

Rubbing where Hidan's fingers had squeezed down on his airway, he nodded with a frown, "Yeah. You?" he nodded at his swelling knuckles.

"Konan," Nagato helped Hidan up to his feet and began to guide him towards his office.

Konan waved Yahiko away, turning her flashing eyes towards Sasuke," You, sit down," she pointed at Itachi, "You, clean this mess up."

Maybe it was because he was out of steam, but Sasuke sank into one of the bar stools lining the kitchen island without any sort of protest as Itachi grabbed a wad of paper towels to mop up at the growing pool of alcohol. Thankfully it had yet to start to congeal into a sticky mess, so most of it came up without any difficulty once Itachi set the mostly-empty can upright so it couldn't continue to pour its contents all over the tile. He'd probably still have to mop, though, to keep any ants from coming in to the house in search of the sugar that would no doubt coat the floor; if anything, he would want to get that god-awful beer stench scrubbed out of the floor.

As he dumped the first fistful of paper towels into the trash, Itachi cursed his temerarious behavior. It was stupid to lunge at Hidan like that - what was he _thinking_? Even if they were roughly the same height and weight, Itachi was a pacifist; he didn't know anything about fighting or self-defense, and Sasuke was right _there_...

He sighed, folding the stack of towels in half to dab at the last of the puddle. _Stupid_.

"I'm not going to lie, I would expect this from Kisame," Konan said slowly as she leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, "Not you. Want to tell me what we just walked in on?"

Itachi sighed again and sat back on his heels for a moment to think of a response. Nothing seemed to satisfy him so, after some minutes of silence, he shrugged his shoulders weakly and shook his head, "I have no excuse."

Of course, Sasuke was less than pleased. "Are you fucking me, right now? No excuse?" he asked angrily, "We were just minding our own business, and that jackass came in here looking for a fight!"

"That is not a good enough reason for me to assault him the way that I did," Itachi responded coolly, staring at the floor.

"Bullshit, that's a perfectly -"

"Sasuke, _please_ ," he cut in pleadingly, bringing his palms up to rub at his face, "I am so over listening to coarse language, right now. If you insist on talking like that, please, just... Just don't say anything at all, or leave." Itachi hated swearing. It was unpleasant, it was dirty and, after what was basically a fight that was all but sponsored by racism and the word "Fuck," he was already far beyond his limit. He wanted to just go cuddle up on the couch, or in his bed, with a blanket, something warm to eat, and with something pleasant streaming on Netflix.

Thankfully, Sasuke relented with a subtle pout that would be adorable if Itachi wasn't so emotionally exhausted. He folded his arms over his chest defensively, turning his unhappy stare to the window.

"Either way, I wasn't asking for an excuse," Konan walked over to the sink to grab one of the sponges, drizzling dish soap over the blue material, "I want to know what happened, before I bench you for the rest of the season and dock your pay."

Trading the sponge for the soiled paper towels, Itachi started to explain everything that happened from the moment Hidan interrupted their conversation, to when Itachi threw the first punch. Idly he was aware of how his voice had taken on a tone that was akin to what you would hear in a nature documentary, but he just focused on wiping up any sugary residue from the tile, flipping the sponge over to run the rough side into the grout for good measure, and keeping the storytelling as impartial as possible. Itachi could only imagine what nonsense Hidan was telling Nagato in his office - no doubt he was comparing him to a crazed guerilla fighter from the Vietnam War.

Throughout the explanation Konan remained silent. Only when she needed a point clarified did she ever interject herself into Itachi's monologue but, otherwise, she listened with an unmoving expression.

"I can't say that I blame you for finally lashing out," she admitted once he was finished telling his side of the situation, resting her elbows on the counter, "Kisame knocked his lights out a few months before you joined, too, for harassing Deidara for being transgender. It was really only a matter of time before it escalated again..."

Konan sighed, pushing herself away from the counter to help Itachi to his feet, "Still, provoked or not, Nagato will most likely fine you half a month's salary for being the one to throw the first punch. We can't just let that slide..." she frowned at his bruising knuckles, "It looks like you're already suffering the consequences of your actions with this sprain, so I'll make sure that he doesn't try to make it a full month."

Well, for that he was a little thankful. Itachi's hand was throbbing painfully and, judging by the initial swelling and the fact that he was already beginning to bruise, it would probably ache for at least a full week.

Konan left the two to themselves so she could make her way to Nagato's office, and Sasuke's lips twisted into a smirk as he met Itachi's gaze.

"Man, Shisui's _never_ gonna believe me when I tell him _you_ got into a fight."

Itachi pinched some flour and threw it at him.

* * *

By the time Kisame stepped through the front door, the sun had long since fallen and the rest of their housemates had vacated the living room to their own private bedrooms. Itachi pulled his tired eyes from the television screen to offer him a quiet smile as he poked his head around his cracked bedroom door, bringing one finger up to his lips in a silent gesture to keep his voice down.

Next to him on the bed was Sasuke who, hours earlier, took the liberty of commandeering his PlayStation 3 for the purpose of watching Netflix, which had recently added some particularly promising Japanese horror titles. Over the course of a few hours he ended up scooting down the mattress until he was lying down, and it wasn't long until he was wrapped around the entire length of Itachi's leg, his head pillowed in his thigh, snoring softly and drooling into his jeans.

How one could possibly fall asleep during a disemboweling scene was beyond Itachi, but he didn't mind. He simply took the controller and turned on a Chinese period drama he had been meaning to watch lately, thankful for the softspoken actresses. It really did seem like Sasuke had been experiencing trouble with sleep lately.

Kisame raised an eyebrow as he closed the distance between them, "What's he doing here?" he whispered while kneeling on the floor.

Itachi brushed the teenager's bangs out of his face for the umpteenth time since beginning to run his fingers through the inky black hair, "He needed someone to talk to."

"Is he staying the night?"

The frown in Kisame's voice prompted Itachi to look up from Sasuke's sleeping face to meet his wary gaze, "Does that bother you?" he asked quietly.

Kisame's brow pointed inwards, "Well... I mean, it's a little weird how close you two've been getting over the last few months."

It was Itachi's turn to frown, "Kisame, are you implying - ?"

"I'm not implying anything, babe..." he gave a little sigh, dropping his head onto the bed, "Just... You two look at each other like you're the sun and the moon. It's intense."

With a delicate snort, muffled by the back of his hand, Itachi rolled his eyes a little, "I promise you that our relationship is not so dramatic."

Kisame didn't look convinced as he reached one hand out to link their fingers together, "He's important to you, though. I can tell. And he's always lookin' at you for approval, so I'd bet you mean just as much to him."

"He is," Itachi agreed, squeezing his hand lightly, "I care for him like I do Shisui. I..." his fingers, which combed through Sasuke's dark locks, slowly came to a stop as he recalled how infuriated he had felt when Hidan lunged for Sasuke's throat earlier, "He's like a younger brother to me. I feel compelled to take care of him, and to shelter him." And he hadn't the faintest clue why.

"Hah, that sounds like a line from a corny romance -"

Itachi released his hand to cover Kisame's mouth as Sasuke stirred, long lashes fluttering and a thin line of drool connecting from his lip to Itachi's jeans. When his eyes opened, Sasuke looked around the room blearily in search for a clock, "What time..?"

Dammit. Itachi shot his boyfriend a look before scooting over towards the edge of the bed for his phone. "It's a little after nine," he answered once unlocking the screen.

Sasuke's face contorted into an expression of disapproval as he inhaled deeply, rubbing his face with both hands and rising to a sitting position, "Shit..."

"No, it's fine," Itachi used only the barest of pressure to guide him back down with one hand, pulling the covers back with the other, "You're exhausted. Just stay here for tonight."

"I should get home..." Sasuke protested sleepily even as he allowed his head to fall into the pillows with a sigh.

"I will not allow you to drive thirty minutes, on a Saturday night, in your condition." Especially not with Orochimaru lingering about.

The teenager pursed his lips to the side in a pout, but was already beginning to drift off by the time he was properly tucked in. Itachi ran his fingers over his baby-soft cheek once, smiling a little when Sasuke leaned into his touch, before grabbing his phone and following Kisame out to the hall.

"How was the aquarium?" he asked once they were in the privacy of Kisame's bedroom.

Itachi was hoping that he would finally get to see that perfect smile again, given Kisame's love for the ocean, but that only seemed to make his frown deepen.

"I always feel kinda guilty going to those places," he admitted as he dropped into his computer chair, "At first they remind me of home, a bit, but then it's like... It's like visiting a zoo," Kisame folded his arms over his chest and stared at the floor, "It's like watching prison life."

Trying to not look too guilty for bringing it up, Itachi crossed the room so he could sit on his boyfriend's lap, straddling his thighs and locking his fingers behind his neck, "It's that bad?"

"Those are magnificent living creatures being forced into glass boxes, just so they can be gawked at for all of five seconds by a bunch of privileged kids on field trips that'll forget all about it in a fuckin' week," he explained unhappily, "They aren't even appreciated. They're just fleeting entertainment to people who don't give a shit about them. It's no different than tourists that trample all over coral reefs for photos and scare the fish away from their home, except they're directly responsible for the imprisonment of animals that should be swimming off the coast of Australia, or Hawaii. Not in a fucking two-by-five cage," Kisame's brow crinkled, "It's not right. You know the Georgia Aquarium tried to kidnap _eighteen_ belugas from Russia? Theirs kept fucking _dying_ , so they decided to take healthy ones and force them to live in captivity, saying it would _save_ them."

Itachi turned his lips to the side thoughtfully, "But I thought that aquariums did conservation work, too? Don't they also tend to injured marine life?"

"So do wildlife rescue centers, and marine veterinarian schools, except they don't enslave dolphins and orcas for personal enjoyment," Kisame grumbled.

Oh. Well then.

"They only do it for tax breaks, anyways, it isn't like the actually give a fuck."

Confused, Itachi furrowed his brow, "If they upset you so, why did you agree to accompany Juzo?"

Kisame lifted his hands up, dropping them down listlessly and shrugging, "I don't even fucking _know_. We were only there for, like, an hour. We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon drinking tequila and watching some weird crime show."

"Weird crime show?"

"Yeah, _Criminal Minds_ or something."

The corners of Itachi's lips quirked upwards, "I love that show." He liked programs that made him think.

Kisame looked up from where he was glowering at his chest to stare at him for a moment, "Yeah, I figured you'd like all the freaky shit in it."

Itachi frowned, "You're being exceptionally crotchety tonight," he murmured almost poutingly.

"I..." Kisame huffed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the head rest of the chair, "I don't even fucking know what that _means_ , Itachi. Can't you just talk like a normal person instead of like a pretentious fucking _stiff_?"

Briefly, he considered getting up and marching back to his room to call it an early night. While he was well aware of how he sometimes used words that weren't exactly all that common among his peers, but that wasn't any excuse for him to be referred to as some haughty prick, especially not by his boyfriend. The only reason Itachi didn't leave him on his own was because A) he wouldn't want to be left alone to wallow in negative emotions and B) he knew that Kisame wasn't actually upset with him.

Leaning forward, Itachi nestled his forehead into the hollow of his shoulder, "Kisame... Are you this upset over the storm ruining your plans?"

"No. I mean," Kisame released a long, heavy sigh, and finally reciprocated the provided physical affection by circling his arms around Itachi's waist, " _Yeah_ , I was kinda ticked about that, but..." he sighed again, "I'm not that pissed anymore. I think I just need to eat something."

Almost immediately, he started to pull away, "What do you need? I'll get it."

Discomfort settled into Kisame's features; Itachi figured he still wasn't that keen on asking for help when he was the one that was used to taking care of others. After a short pause to think, however, he deflated into his chair a little and gestured with one hand, "My bag."

Moving fast enough for Itachi to nearly leave an after image, he hopped off of his boyfriend's lap and scurried over to the bed where a small blue drawstring backpack was lying on the duvet next to a black canvas wallet, a set of keys, and a cellphone that blinked with several social media alerts - primarily Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat. When he snatched the bag up by the scrunched up top and brought it over to where Kisame really was beginning to look kind of miserable, he resisted the urge to crawl back onto his legs, lest he bring the man any more discomfort.

Upon learning about Kisame's diagnosis Itachi had done a fair amount of independent research - a fair amount translating to staying up until two hours before his alarm was set to go off - especially on typical insulin schedules and the symptoms that came with mismatched blood glucose levels, so he assumed that he would have been prepared to actually see it. Upon watching Kisame's brow twitch in response to his meter lancing his finger, and the frown in his face deepen ever so subtly, though... That was when it hit home.

Silently lurking beneath his boyish grins and swells of muscles, secluded in the privacy provided by closed doors, was this. Needles multiple times a day, even more meter sticks to be safe, having to eat foods you clearly don't enjoy when you aren't hungry in the slightest, discomfort and illness when you don't manage it properly...

Pity was not a word that Itachi would use to describe how he was feeling. He did not feel bad for Kisame, he felt...

No, he couldn't put a word to the heavy feeling in his chest.

Itachi pulled his knees up to his chest once he was seated on the bed, his dark eyes fixated on the floor as to not make his boyfriend uncomfortable by staring.

It worried him, if he was honest with himself. He worried about what could happen if they were at an event and Kisame forgot to take proper care of himself, like how Haku forgot to manage his own blood sugar during CEO a couple of years ago before he had to go to the hospital. Itachi worried about nights like these, where Kisame was uncharacteristically grumpy and hostile without intending to be, but being unable to help himself when he was uncomfortable and feeling defeated; it wasn't as if he was looking for an excuse to jump ship, but he was adult enough to know that situations like this could put a mild strain on their relationship.

The part of him that wasn't worried, or maybe the other side of his worry, felt a desperate need to make himself useful. Itachi wanted to help - to make things better in whatever way that he could, but this was totally out of his control. Was this how Kisame felt when he saw someone else hurting?

At the sound of the bag being chucked into the cubby hole of his nightstand, Itachi looked up with tentative curiosity, "You don't have to take insulin with that..?"

Kisame crumpled up the Fiber One wrapper and dropped it into the small waste bin next to the bed, "Nah, insulin would lower my blood sugar, and I kinda need it to not do that," he offered a small small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I'm gonna brush my teeth and get some water. You want anything?"

Itachi shook his head, feeling foolish for some reason. No, not foolish, ignorant.

So much for all of that research.

After a couple of very quiet seconds he decided to follow suit and slipped out into the hall to prepare for bed. Sasuke was so tired that he didn't even budge from where he was snoring in Itachi's bed when Itachi opened the door, but he still made a point to be as quiet as he could while grabbing one of the last few fresh sleeping shirts from his dresser. Tomorrow would have to be laundry day if Itachi intended to wear clean clothes this week.

By the time his teeth were brushed and he was changed into the pajama shirt - he didn't see much of a point in changing his underwear until morning if he had showered just a few hours earlier - Kisame was still downstairs so Itachi busied himself by pulling his hair over his shoulder so that he could tie a loose knot under his ear. Sleeping with his hair down was nothing short of cumbersome, what with it tangling around his shoulders and neck like he was Samara, and having his ponytail behind his head always felt uncomfortable, so this was the only way Itachi could sleep.

As he wondered if he should teach himself how to braid, Kisame stepped through the door with a glass of water in one hand, a bottle of Pepsi in the other. He raised an eyebrow, "You ever plan on giving that back?"

Itachi's hands came up instinctively to clutch the black fabric that clothed his chest. It was the shirt that had been loaned to him during their pizza date, and he wore it to bed more often than his actual pajama shirts because it was soft, and hung all nice and loose on his frame, and because it was _special_...

An amused grin dashed his concerns, "Just figured you'd want to trade, since I bet it doesn't smell like me anymore."

Heat flared in his cheeks. Kisame was right, his shirt had long since lost that perfect spicy scent that he had grown accustomed to; in its place was the smell of Gain laundry detergent, which didn't have the same effect when Itachi was snuggled down into his bundle of blankets at night.

After a moment of consideration, he tugged the shirt off and chucked at his boyfriend with a playful huff before making his way over to the dresser.

"Damn, if I knew that was all it took to get you naked..." Kisame joked as he dropped the soda into his nightstand drawer, his own blush marring his cheeks.

Itachi rolled his eyes at the shirts he was rifling through, "I am not naked."

Just a beat later, he could hear as much as feel Kisame cross the room to stand close enough behind him for Itachi to feel his impressive body heat emanate off of him. He froze, shirt half-pulled from the dresser drawer, when a single callused finger came up to rest at the nape of his neck.

"You're right, you're not..." Kisame's voice was low, hardly louder than a whisper, and husky as his finger slowly trailed downwards, following his spine. The unspoken "Yet" hung heavy between them.

Itachi's brain turned into scrambled eggs. The sensation of Kisame's lips talking into his hair, his breath hot and moist against his scalp, and the sound of his suddenly growling voice was enough for his mind to completely vacate. All of his attention was transfixed on the subtle sounds of Kisame's noticeably slowed breathing, on the way each inhale made Itachi's hair flutter beneath his mouth, on the way that lone fingertip skimmed between his shoulders...

Kisame's cheek slid down so that his mouth brushed the very tip of his ear, "You aren't breathing..."

The finger stopped to rest over the center of his back, and Itachi found himself pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from whimpering in protest. He arched towards the dresser, dropping his head onto Kisame's chest. The breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding came out slow and deliberate, though Itachi couldn't seem to establish any sort of even rhythm and that left him unsteady in all of the right ways.

"You okay, baby?" Kisame murmured even as he continued gliding down the length of Itachi's body, providing an almost fleeting touch that trailed its way to his hips.

Lashes fluttering, Itachi turned his face to the side. He smelled like the beach, still, like salt, sweat and sand, all lingering over the subtle scent of skin. A flash of desire struck him straight on the groin as his willpower waned. Itachi pushed against the drawer, t-shirt still clutched in his hands, and arched his back like he could somehow escape the bolts of electricity that raced through what felt like the entirety of his nervous system. Kisame's name may have passed through his lips, he wasn't quite sure, but he knew that he said _something_ that elicited a low growl from Kisame that sent Itachi's heart into a frenzy.

"Tell me what you want," Kisame's finger dipped under the very tip of the waistband of his trunks, tugging just enough to make it snap against his heated skin, " _Exactly_ what you want."

The sharp crack of the elastic striking Itachi's skin sent another jolt of heat to pool in his groin. He released the shirt to pivot on his heel, sliding his hands over Kisame's chest to sink them into his tousled blue locks -

"Shit, Itachi, what happened to your _hand_?"

A whoosh of air yanked Itachi out of his aroused daze as Kisame pulled back in alarm, and he blinked his perplexity. Kisame held his wrist in one hand, his hand in the other, and gingerly rolled it back and forth to examine it.

Head reeling from being incredibly turned on one moment, and being passionately interrogated the next, Itachi's brain couldn't quite come up with much of an explanation other than, "I lost my temper with Hidan..."

"You got into a fight?!" He looked up from the wrapped knuckles, blue eyes wide and bewildered, "Over _what_?"

Itachi's brow furrowed, "I decked him for dipping into my Little Debbie stash," he explained facetiously.

Kisame didn't take the bait, "Are you okay?" he released his wrist to cradle his head, inspecting it for wounds.

"I'm fi - "

"What happened?"

"I was - "

"Did he hurt you?!"

" _Kisame_." Itachi brought his hands up to cover the ones that were tilting his jaw back and forth, meeting his worried gaze with his own calm one, "I promise you that I am uninjured."

Kisame's frown deepened, " _That's_ what you call uninjured?"

He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, "I injured _myself_ because I acted foolishly in a tense situation. Konan said it was nothing more than a sprain."

"I'm gonna kick his ass -"

"You most certainly are _not_ ," Itachi slid his hands down to his shoulders and stood up on his tiptoes for a kiss that wasn't entirely reciprocated, "I am confident that Six handled the situation properly, so _you_..." he continued to drag his palms over his chest, "Are going to get out of your dirty beach clothes, get into bed, and cuddle with me until I fall asleep."

Ah, finally. A grin cracked through the protective anger etched into Kisame's features; he growled playfully low in his throat as his hands skirted over his ribs to squeeze his waist, stepping forward to corner Itachi against the dresser, "You have any idea how hot you are?"

Itachi smirked against the lips that slanted over his, "The erection poking my hip is cluing me in."

"Fuck, sorry," Kisame stepped back with a blush, looking sheepish as he reached over Itachi's shoulder to open up the drawer full of folded boxers, "I'm gonna grab a shower."

"A cold one?" he teased.

Kisame pulled his t-shirt over his head and chucked it at Itachi's head, who was more than thankful that there wasn't any sand left over from his morning surf, "Only if you're making me go it alone."

Chucking the dirty article onto the floor, Itachi rolled his eyes and grabbed the shirt he was trying to get earlier, "I would rather not risk a broken neck just to satisfy your urges."

" _My_ urges?" Kisame grinned and nodded downwards, "Babe, I can see your piercings."

Startled, Itachi looked down at his groin, where his fading erection was straining against his trunks, two little bumps poking proudly into the fabric. He made quick work of spinning around to put his back to Kisame, which was covered by a much too-large t-shirt just a beat later. By the time he willed himself flaccid, Kisame's booming laugh bounced off of the hallway walls.

Good lord...

Itachi took the liberty of grabbing the sleek blue iPod from Kisame's backpack before heading over to the bed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear as his thumb rubbed slow circles over the flat wheel to scroll through the dozens of playlist that his boyfriend had made. _Gym_ , _gym cooldown_ , _driving_... Itachi chuckled quietly at the one named _hipster shit_. Didn't he have a sleeping playlist..?

Oh... This was new.

After a slight pause, he tapped the center button to open up the list marked _itachi_.

There were a number of songs and artists that he recognized, including Of Monsters and Men, Troye Sivan, Vance Joy and that Louis the Child remixer that Itachi remembered from the one of the first times they drove together. There were some that were new to him, though, like Pluix and Kaizerwolf. Itachi set it to shuffle and connected it to the dock that was on the nightstand, a quiet smile playing on his lips.

Kisame made a playlist for him.

It was kind of corny, like how couples in the 80s would make mixtapes for each other, but Itachi still felt a happy bubbly feeling spread to his toes as a soft melody floated up from the small speakers.

A handful of unfamiliar songs into the playlist, Kisame returned with the stained-blue towel that he used to spare the others from his running hair dye, one hand rubbing it vigorously scrubbing into the side of his head.

"Someone looks happy," he noted with a grin, "Don't tell me you were getting off on my bed while I was freezing to death in the shower." A beat. "Actually, tell me. I could use the reference material," Kisame wiggled his eyebrows.

Itachi snorted, but allowed his face to be tilted up for a kiss, "I prefer my own bed for that."

"Is that so?" Kisame leaned forward, planting both of his hands on the bed, and Itachi could feel his grin widen as he pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Mhm. That way I can just leave my toys on the nightstand and clean them in the morning."

A ragged breath puffed against his mouth, "Toys?" There was an emphasis put on the use of plural.

A coy smile slowly stretched across Itachi's face at the tables having been turned, "I take my time, Kisame..." he brushed their lips together once, twice, "Good things come to those two wait."

"Good things?" Kisame asked a little breathlessly, bringing one of his hands from the mattress to rest on his knee.

" _Very_ good things," Itachi's knees came up to bracket his hips, "The kind that make your entire back arch off of the bed..." his teeth captured Kisame' bottom lip and tugged gently, "The kind of good thing that makes you pull the sheets hard enough to - _crap_!"

He had set one of his arms back to prop up his weight, which happened to be the arm that was connected to his injury. Pain exploded through his hand like a white inferno. Itachi snatched his wrist back up to cradle it to his chest, dropping back onto the mattress, "Ow, ow..."

Kisame moved swiftly, climbing onto the bed next to him and carefully took his hand from his chest, "When was the last time you iced this?"

Itachi grimaced against the intense throbbing; he felt like a _Looney Toon_ that smacked his hand with a hammer, "When Konan wrapped it for me, around five or six o'clock."

"Have you used it since? Is there any numbness?" Kisame unfastened the bandage clip so he could unravel the skin-colored fabric, tearing his eyes away just long enough to glance at the clock, "Can you roll your wrist for me?"

"Um... No, Sasuke was pretty adamant on being the one to handle the last of the cooking," Itachi's eyes screwed shut for a moment against the brief flash of sharp pain that lanced through his hand as he rolled it, "It hurts."

"But is it stiff? More than it would be after a few hours of keeping it still?" Setting the bandage aside in a pile, Kisame carefully examined his fingers, gently pressing his nails. When he tapped the underside of his middle finger to push it upwards, Itachi sucked in a harsh breath and flinched away. "Christ, babe, how hard did you hit him?"

He didn't answer, trying to focus on the tender manner in which is injured hand was being handled, as opposed to the pain that was only just beginning to ebb away. It wasn't like Itachi had any idea how much force was put behind the punch, as angry as he was...

"He was using homophobic and racial slurs," he muttered, "I didn't even realize what I was doing."

Releasing his hand to set it down on the fluffy duvet, Kisame leaned over his prone position, "Was there anything else?"

_"What're you gonna do, cry to your boyfriend?"_

Itachi turned his face away to avoid meeting his eyes, "No."

"Itachi..."

"It was nothing -"

Warm, soft lips descended to caress his cheek, "Don't do this, baby..." Kisame kissed a path up to his temple, "Don't shut me out."

A pang of guilt hit Itachi square in the chest. How was it so easy for him to tease his boyfriend about masturbating, but found difficulty in sharing harassment that wasn't even creative, or even remotely inspired?

"He called me trash," he whispered.

Kisame shot up into a sitting position, "He _what_?!"

"Kisame -"

"Okay, now I'm _really_ gonna kick ass."

With a heavy sigh, Itachi used his good hand to push himself upwards, "Please, that doesn't make me feel better."

The muscles over Kisame's jaw flexed, and he breathed harshly through his nose, but even though his entire body was tense he made no effort to get up off of the bed, "I'm so over his bullshit. He's such a fucking asshole."

"He is, but, Kisame..." Itachi reached under his glasses to rub at his eyes, his shoulders sagging, "It's been such a long day, and everyone was angry, and shouting at each other, and _swearing_ , and I'm..." he leaned his weight into Kisame's side, "I'm tired of people being _hostile_. Right now, all I want is to be with you..."

Itachi trailed off when a thick, tattooed arm shifted so that it was wrapped around his shoulders and pulling him close, as Kisame's free hand cupped his cheek.

"I get it, I'm sorry," he tipped his face up until their noses brushed, "I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it anymore."

Eyes closed, Itachi let his nose bump against Kisame's cheek, nuzzling gently. He must have shaved after taking a shower, because his skin was smooth and softer than earlier, and the faint scent of menthol and musk from his aftershave splash lingered on his chin.

"I'm gonna get some ice for your hand before I rewrap it," Kisame placed a ghost of a kiss on his lips, "I'll see if I can find you a brace so you don't hurt yourself sleeping."

Itachi frowned when he stood up from the bed, "Kisame, I can do that myself..."

Despite his protest, Kisame stopped him halfway through standing up, "I gotta grab a quick snack, anyways."

Exhaustion proved to be the victor over stubbornness and Itachi relented without further objection. It really had been a long day, so the comfort of soft, clean sheets and the promise of snuggles in the very near future were enough to convince him to situate himself under the covers once his boyfriend clicked the door shut behind him. He scooted down the mattress a bit, thankful for Kisame's unusually tall height requiring a delightful king-sized bed, and stretched his muscles, which were still somewhat stiff from Kisame's teasing from earlier.

Shit, that was hot.

Touching the tips of his fingers to the wall and flexing his toes, the arches of his feet pulling deliciously, Itachi loosened up with a noisy huff and sagged into the sheets, feeling like a pile of noodles. Even if he really did prefer his own bed, he had to admit that Kisame's pillow top was a beautiful thing. Drowsiness weighed heavily on his eyelids and by the time Kisame returned, which could have been five minutes or five hours, Itachi wasn't really sure, he was almost entirely sucked into sleep, right there in the center of the bed with the duvet pulled over his head.

Light assaulted his eyes through his closed lids when the covers were pulled back, and Itachi rolled over to smush his face into the sheets with a low moan.

"I know, I know, but I need your hand," Kisame pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his head.

Itachi cracked an eye open to glare at the bruised knuckles that rested next to his face, then to whatever Kisame was holding in his lap, "What, pray tell, is that contraption?"

Resting over his thighs was a bright blue cuff that resembled a brace, but the fabric looked fuzzy and much too soft to provide any proper pressure. When Kisame tore apart the velcro and reached for his wrist, he saw that it was sectioned into thirds and appeared to hold weights behind some mesh. Itachi was pretty sure he had seen something like it before, but couldn't remember where.

"It's a wrist wrap that you leave in the freezer," he explained while laying Itachi's hand over one of the sections, "Nagato keeps a shit ton of them in that cooler in the back of the freezer for his EDS."

Ah, that would explain why it was familiar. He remembered seeing something similar to this wrapped around Nagato's knee when it popped out of place coming down the stairs.

Itachi frowned at the sudden chill that made his skin break out in goosebumps, "You weren't down there very long. Did you get anything to eat?"

"Yeah, I got one of those dumplings that Sasori made," Kisame explained, giving back his wrist and reaching over for his cup of water, "They're so fricking good."

Pride swelled in his chest, "You think so?"

"I had to make a point of not eating the entire damn container."

If Itachi were a dog, his tail would be wagging as he said, "I'm glad you think so."

He wouldn't spoil it by taking credit - Kisame already showed hesitation every time Itachi so much stepped into the kitchen, thanks to Sasuke - so he hid his smile by readjusting himself so that he was on his side of the bed, dropping his head into the pillows. Even with the cold compressing his sprained hand, it didn't take long for his body heat to collect under the covers in a greenhouse effect. After just a couple of moments Itachi found himself hovering in that heavy limbo between sleep and consciousness, only the soft clinking of glass pulling him out of the blissful black void of sleep.

Kisame looked up from the needle he was pulling out of his lower belly to see Itachi staring blearily at him, more than a little uncomfortable with being watched.

"I thought you didn't want to take any insulin...?"

Eyebrow raised, he popped the cap back over the needle and nodded at the clock, "Babe, that was an hour and a half ago."

Itachi glanced at the nightstand, startled, and Kisame made no effort to resist the urge to laugh at how puzzled he looked as he struggled to realize that he had fallen asleep. He blinked at the clock, then at the drool-stained pillow, then the clock, then at Kisame, until something in that noggin of his clicked.

"You..." the words seemed to get all jumbled in Itachi's mouth as he worked through his drowsiness, "Why didn't you wake me up..?"

"It's eleven - why would I wake you up?"

That earned him a long stare that Kisame wasn't sure was meant to be chastising or Itachi at a loss for words, and he smiled at how fucking _cute_ he was when he giggled quietly to himself and smushed his face into the pillow.

It was corny, like those stupid Nicholas Sparks movies Konan watched all the time but, he was over the moon just watching Itachi _sleep_ whenever he drifted out on the sofa while watching TV, or the one other time Kisame was awake long enough to see him sleeping in his own bed. Itachi had so many layers of inhibitions, and what Kisame suspected was undiagnosed anxiety, that the only time he ever really softened up was when he was sleepy. His forehead smoothed out, his lips parted a little because he was cute as hell and breathed though his mouth, and the tension Itachi incessantly carried around with him seemed to completely melt away.

Not to mention, he was so goddamn _cuddly_.

Oh, how Kisame loved being near him when he was dozing. On more than one occasion he had replaced a couch pillow with himself, slipping under the blanket Itachi always draped over himself, and, every time, Itachi reached out for him. It seemed like it was the only time he was comfortable with taking what he wanted, pulling Kisame's limbs around him as he saw fit, then snuggling in close.

Kisame didn't even mind the drool that always got on his shoulder.

Actually, on the note of asserting himself…

With a clattering noise, Kisame dropped his needle into the bright red sharps box he kept under his desk; he tried to not feel too weird at the hazy eyes that followed his movements towards the bed. He _really_ needed to get over his insecurities.

"Actually, it's probably a good thing you're awake," he murmured, pulling back the sheets to slide in, "I've been kinda wanting to talk to you about something."

Kisame waited for him to look a little more alert before continuing, letting one of his hands drop to Itachi's waist to rub gentle circles into the sliver of exposed skin just above his hip. His cheeks were flushed from his earlier embarrassment and his lips, slick and red as if he had been biting them, had a lock of hair stuck to the drying spit on his upper lip, and Kisame was pretty sure he would go crazy if he kept looking at him like that for any longer.

It honestly wasn't fair that someone could look this seductive without even trying.

"Is something wrong?" Itachi asked, effectively pulling Kisame out of the fantasy that was making him feel like a real piece of shit, given the context.

Blushing shamefully, he shook his head and brought their foreheads back together, "No, no, it's nothing bad."

Itachi's stare was impassive.

"Okay, it might be," Kisame knitted his brow, "When I was in the shower, I was thinking... Did I make you uncomfortable earlier?"

While watching his blue dye mix into the water and swirl around the drain, he had been hit with a revelation that he had put his hands all over him without asking for permission first, just a few weeks after he confessed to what was literally months of emotional and physical _torture_. Kisame almost threw up when he realized what exactly he had done, cornering Itachi in his bedroom and essentially molesting him like some sort of mindless _predator_ when all he was trying to do was get a fucking t-shirt -

"Of course not."

The still conviction in Itachi's response put him at a loss for words. Kisame wasn't expecting some sort of angry outburst, but he had pretty much convinced himself that he had committed some terrible crime, that he put their mutual trust at risk, so he was at least expecting a calm explanation of what he had done wrong.

Long lashes casting subtle shadows over his cheeks, Itachi's eyes slid shut, "I told you, didn't I?" he slid across the mattress to slip one arm over Kisame's waist, "I would tell you if you upset me."

"But, I backed you into a _corner_ -"

"And I could have gotten away any time I wanted to," he clarified, shrugging lazily. Itachi's fingers started to trace an indiscernible pattern into Kisame's spin, "Believe me when I say that I was very close to making you quite au fait with those piercings."

Kisame pulled him into a bear hug that trapped him to his chest before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, but didn't answer. Every muscle fiber in his body twitched with a tension that refused to be quelled by Itachi's comforting touch.

Itachi wriggled free, just enough to meet his gaze, and placed his hand on his jaw, "Kisame, just because you know what happened to me doesn't mean you need to live in constant fear of a panic attack," he explained steadily, "If I felt you would hurt me, do you think I would be lying in bed with you?"

The gentle assurance must have brought some relief to Kisame, because his shoulders finally loosened up enough for Itachi to scoot up into the pillows a bit more so that their faces were level. There was still something lurking behind that piercing blue gaze, though, like a silent storm that wasn't quiet a hurricane yet, but was more than just heavy rain. It was clear that Kisame was musing, but was still too worried about pushing things too far.

Normally Itachi would find that kind of consideration sweet but, right now, it was more cloying than anything else. Probably because he was sleepy.

"Tell me what else is on your mind," he urged gently, keeping their gazes locked.

Kisame paused, and Itachi thought he could see his raised guard falter as he waged an internal battle. Once the clock ticked to eleven-sixteen, he seemed to give up with arguing with himself. One of his hands fell to his hip, his fingers toying with the hem of the shirt Itachi wore.

"I, uh, I was thinking about when – _if_ ," Kisame corrected quickly, " _If_ we ever have sex… You know you don't _have_ to bottom, right?"

The corners of his lips slanted upwards just a tad, and Itachi raised a slender eyebrow, "Come again?" It wasn't that he didn't hear what had been said, but he most definitely required clarification before coming up with his own response.

"I mean, I know that it's kinda the _norm_ for the bigger one to… Pitch," Kisame explained, his hands squeezing Itachi's waist at odd intervals. He watched his bronzed cheeks redden, and he broke eye contact to hide behind the safety of his eyelids. For all of his confidence, it seemed that it was actually quite easy to embarrass Itachi's mountainous boyfriend.

Itachi used the hand still lingering on Kisame's jaw to cup his cheek, guiding him into a soft kiss. It was slow and unhurried and, almost as if a switch flipped in Kisame's mind, Itachi felt the other man relax.

"Calm down," he instructed gently, bringing up his other hand to follow the curves of his muscled chest, "You're over thinking this." Itachi smiled warmly and kissed the tip of his nose, "Weren't you the one that said we need to have talks like this?"

Kisame grinned sheepishly, "How the tables have turned."

They both laughed softly, their smiling lips brushing along one another in tender movements. Kisame's hands smoothed over Itachi's hips to cup his lower back, tugging just hard enough for Itachi to get the message and wiggle a little closer to him, slipping one of his legs between his so that their limbs were entwined. The change made him feel like he was being completely enveloped by Kisame's body, wrapped up in his arms and legs in a cocoon of affection, and it made Itachi's heart flutter as he matched Kisame's smile with his own.

Once they fluttered down from their chuckling, Kisame's eyes had softened and one of his hands was massaging gentle circles into his lower back.

"I was just thinking, you know, it isn't that fair if we just let the norm dictate that you…" he swallowed, "If it would make you more comfortable, I wouldn't mind taking it for you, is what I'm trying to say."

The muscles over his jaw flexed, and Itachi realized just how nervous he actually was talking about this.

No, not talking about it, Kisame was actually getting anxious over the _idea_ of it.

"Kisame, you've never bottomed before, have you..?"

He squirmed a little, looking uneasy, before answering with a gruff, "Nope."

Yeah, he figured as much. Kisame was definitely the type that would naturally take to a more dominant position in bed, so it didn't surprise Itachi in the least to hear his admission. That wasn't to say that it lessened the emotional impact of his suggestion, though. In spite of being this nervous just from offering himself to Itachi, he still _did_ it; Kisame was willing to put his worries aside just to make _him_ happy…

"The thought of sex does not frighten me," Itachi whispered, his fingers trailing down to his chest, following the curves of the sinew until coming to rest over his collar, "You don't have to give yourself to me."

Tanned fingers danced along his belly, stopping only to play with his navel, "I know I don't, baby, I just want you to know that it's a two-way street."

Eyes the color of black Chinese lacquer continued to stare at him for several more seconds, a myriad of emotions passing through and swirling together. For a moment Kisame worried that he might cry but, almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Itachi's hand drifted down to cover the part of his tattoo that extended over his chest, a tentative expression on his face.

"I have a fear of being undressed," he admitted just as quietly as before, "I feel exposed. Defenseless. It has become a precursor to pain."

Kisame thought back to the night he brought him home from the bar and wondered what was going through Itachi's head when he insisted that he needed help getting changed into his pajamas. Was he trying to prove something to himself, or was Itachi just so inebriated that his inhibitions had flown out the window?

"Shisui tried helping me with it through some articles he read about relearning touch, but..." Itachi sighed, "Every attempt ended miserably, and we gave up after the first couple of months. I still have trouble with so much as using a public dressing room."

No words would come to him - nothing felt appropriate. How did you respond to something like that, to someone that told you that they were afraid of having their clothing removed? It felt wrong to so much as keep his hands on Itachi - not because he was disgusted in any sense of the word, but because Kisame felt like he was swimming all on his own in uncharted waters, where a rip current could grab him at any moment.

"Itachi... I..." Kisame took a long, deep breath that made his tattooed chest swell beneath the hand Itachi held over him, "You're so important to me, and I know you said you don't think I will, but... I'm real fuckin' scared of hurting you, of doing something wrong, of -"

"Kisame, believe me when I say that I have done enough worrying and being afraid for both of us to last a lifetime," Itachi crooned, "I have learned to trust you, now it's time that you instill some trust in me."

"I do trust you," Kisame insisted.

A sweet smile graced Itachi's lips, "Then trust me to know that you are good for me, and that you won't do commit any misdeeds."

It didn't alleviate all of his worries and insecurities, but the confidence in his voice was enough for the knot in Kisame's chest to loosen. He could feel how soft the sheets were, how warm Itachi's breath was on his lips and how his body rocked every so slightly with each inhale, as if his stress had been blocking the part of his brain that allowed him to appreciate sensation. Kisame practically melted into the bed, his eyes sliding shut. His lips curved upwards when he felt Itachi's press a kiss to them.

"Goodnight, chief."

Kisame watched Itachi's face while he slipped back into sleep, watching the way his brow relaxed and his lips parted into a perfectly round oval. It didn't take long, given how late it was and how eventful his day seemed to have been, and Kisame would be lying if he wasn't experiencing a small stab of guilt for bringing up such a heavy topic right after he woke up from a short map. Conversations like that should happen in the morning or the middle of the day, when both parties are fully alert and aren't being weighed down by other matters, not when they're so exhausted that something as simple as closing their eyes is enough to suck them back into unconsciousness.

He kissed Itachi's forehead in a silent apology he would never be able to recall.

The last thing to cross Kisame's mind before he fell asleep, was asking in a silent prayer that he never ruin what was easily becoming one of the best things to ever happen to him.


	14. Chapter 13

"Calm down, holy shit," Shisui laughed as he pried talon-like fingers away from where they were trying to cut off the circulation to his hand.

Itachi nearly sprang out of his seat, and he pulled out the camera he had borrowed from Sasori to snap a dozen photos of Sasuke as he followed the double-file line through the rows of cheap plastic chairs. He may or may not be abusing the continuous shooting feature.

"What're you gonna do, just take a zillion photos of him sitting there looking bored?" Shisui made an attempt to wrestle the absurdly expensive camera away from his best friend and the overhead lights dimmed, "Itachi, you're gonna kill the battery."

Excitement buzzed all through Itachi's body, and he continued to fidget as the principal or dean or whatever took his position behind the podium, "This is a big day – it deserves to be documented."

Shisui snorted loudly, "Okay, _mom_ , but that doesn't mean you need to snap a pic every time he breathes."

That earned an amused snort from Kisame, who was looking quite entertained by his boyfriend's enlivened demeanor from where he was sitting on his other side.

Ignoring Kisame's quiet chortling, Itachi gave Shisui a sidelong look but relented, ducking his head under the strap to hand over the DSLR and eyeing his friend's fingers, which were slick butter residue from the popcorn held between his knees, "Use the strap before you drop it," he paused, "I expect this back when it is time for Sasuke to cross the stage," Itachi added as an afterthought.

"Look, you just watch and enjoy yourself," Shisui nodded in the direction of the valedictorian, who was being introduced to the audience by the dean, "Let me be the one to fuss over pictures."

As did most other high school graduations, the next half hour was spent with a number of students and school officials delivering speeches as they stood behind the decorated podium. Some cried upon recalling fond memories shared with other students, and even more cried during the heartfelt video that was provided in memoriam of a student that was killed by a drunk driver just a month before finals.

Of course, Sasuke couldn't possibly look any more bored. He didn't fall asleep - probably due to the flimsy plastic chair not offering much comfort - but he spent most of the ceremony leaned forward with his palm supporting his chin, or slouched down with arms folded over his chest. At one point he started swaying back and forth a bit so watch the tassle on his cap swing around, to which both men chuckled quietly and made sure to document it thoroughly with Sasori's camera.

When it came time for the final row of students to approach the stage, Itachi was finding it more and more difficult to keep his rear end from bouncing out of his seat, too excited to sit still. It was looking like Shisui was right in suggesting that he be the one to take pictures; Itachi didn't want to watch this through a viewfinder or on a tiny LCD screen.

Should there ever come a need for an official poster boy for best friendship, Itachi would be sure to throw Shisui's name into the hat.

By the time Sasuke made his way up the steps to take his diploma, Itachi was using both of his hands to grip Kisame's knee as he fidgeted happily, "He's doing it, he's _graduating_."

With an amicable laugh, his friend nodded and snapped enough pictures to create a frame-by-frame video reel, "Yes, dear, our little boy is all grown up. Aren't we such proud parents?"

A jovial energy coursed through his veins while he intently watched the scene in front of him unfold, paying no mind to Shisui's well-intentioned joke. So many nights had been spent with Sasuke holed up in his room studying at his desk and working tirelessly until dawn, and now he was graduating, and could go to college, and finally start a life for himself...

Sasuke had an almost hopeful expression on his face as his dark eyes, glittering under the multitude of lights trained on the stage, discreetly scanned the crowd. From experience Itachi knew that the faces would all be too dark for the teenager to see, and he was looking in the wrong direction, but that didn't stop him from tightening his hold on Kisame's leg in anticipation for him to find them.

_'You're not alone, Sasuke,'_ he prayed, _'I'm here, and I am so, so proud of you.'_

Something warm and bright swelled in Itachi's chest when he watched Sasuke, now returned to his seat, stand up with the rest of the class to move his academic cap's tassle over to the left to signify his moment of graduation.

Kisame wrapped one of his heavily muscled arms over Itachi's shoulders to pull him in for a tight hug, his lips finding his temple where he murmured, "Sushi and I'll pull the car around so you two can be alone for a couple minutes."

A thankful kiss was placed on his cheek, over the small tattoos that were stacked below his eye, before Kisame motioned for Shisui to follow him down the auditorium steps. Itachi hung back for a few more moments to allow the initial rush of people exiting the building to pass; he busied himself by pulling out his phone to send Sasuke a quick text message to have him meet him towards the parking lot.

When Itachi finally managed to weave his way through the bustling crowd to find Sasuke lingering not too far from where he was expecting him. The expectant, almost lost, expression he wore vanished upon making eye contact, and Itachi couldn't stop himself from smiling when he noticed that Sasuke's tie was arranged into a tight trinity knot.

_He taught him that_.

"Congratulations," Itachi greeted, gathering the teenager up in his arms in a tight embrace, "Sasuke, I am so proud of you."

A huff was lost into the fabric of Itachi's button down, "It's just high school," Sasuke reminded rather stiffly.

Still smiling, Itachi pulled back enough to reach up and poke at Sasuke's forehead with his index and middle finger, "Which you graduated from a year early, with honors," he readjusted the glossy gold honor cord that hung over the just as equally shiny burgundy silk stole that was draped over Sasuke's shoulders, "While working full-time. This is an achievement to be proud of."

"I'm sure you were some mega-nerd that graduated top of your class," Sasuke scrunched his nose.

Itachi didn't feel it was necessary to tell him that he had been kicked out of his home before his school held its graduation ceremony.

Thankfully, a familiar blue Charger decided at that moment to pull up to the curb. The two piled into the backseat, where Sasuke wasted no time in shedding his cap and gown.

"So, lunch?" Kisame asked while waiting for the congestion in the parking lot to clear up.

Predictably, Sasuke shrugged, "I'onno. Whatever."

"Pizza, pho, Italian..?" Shisui prattled off the available options.

"Soup dumplings," Itachi suggested, pulling out his phone, "What was the name of the place run by that family from the cultural festival?"

Sasuke actually perked up at the prospect of celebrating the day at the dumpling restaurant. He sat up a little higher in his seat and held out his hand for Itachi to pass over his cell, "Here, I'll pull it up on your GPS."

In the front seat, Kisame huffed a little, though it was meant to be teasing, "English, please?"

"Here," Sasuke leaned forward to hand the phone over the center console, which Shisui promptly snatched up before Kisame could grab it.

"You drive like a maniac," he explained rather pointedly when Kisame gave him a quizzical look.

"I drive fine!" the eldest of the group protested with a frown

Itachi grinned, "Kisame, there are times where I am certain you learned to operate a vehicle from Vin Diesel's performance in _Fast and Furious_."

That earned him a disapproving glance in the rearview mirror.

"We just wanna get there in one piece, bud," Shisui added, "Turn right at the light up here."

Kisame muttered something about being ganged up on as he hit the brakes, but Itachi had already turned his attention to Sasuke who was in the process of trying to akwardly shimmy out of his graduation gown. When he started to unbuckle his seatbelt, Itachi poked his forehead and smacked his hand away.

"You will remain buckled in until we are parked," he tutted.

Sasuke frowned but relented, settling back into the seat with his arms folded over his chest and turning his attention to the front of the car, "Hey, Shisui, how long are you in town, anyways?"

Shisui pursed his lips to the side and looked up at the fabric ceiling with a thoughtful hum, "My flight leaves at ten tomorrow night, I think."

"You _think_ ," Sasuke echoed.

"That's a rather late flight," Itachi tilted to the side a tad to be able to meet his gaze, "When do you land in New York?"

A disgruntled groan passed through Shisui's lips as he ran a hand through his curly black hair, "No fuckin' kidding. There's a pretty shitty layover in Ohare, too, so I think I get in at eleven am." He pointed forward, "Take a left here, then the first right."

Itachi grimaced for his misfortune. Layovers that were more than a couple of hours were always killer, especially in Ohare where finding a wall outlet for your laptop was nigh impossible.

Clearly Kisame agreed with his sentiment, "Why the fuck did you pick such a shitty itinerary?"

Shisui shrugged, "I didn't get time off approved from Hidden Mist until a few days ago so all the good flights were gone. This was the winner winner chicken dinner of the ones left."

Because the _Smash_ scene didn't see the best prize pools, the biggest being at EVO with the pot only hitting maybe thirty thousand dollars, Shisui had taken up an extra job with his organization as a community assistant to help out with social media and making scheduled ads for streamers. It made sense that they would be stingy in giving him vacation days so close to DreamHack Stockholm.

"Wait, why are you in town if it's not for _Smash_?" Sasuke frowned a little, "Shouldn't you be at home training?"

With a shrug, Shisui started rubbing his thumb down the center of his palm, "I didn't wanna miss your graduation. It's no big deal."

The teenager fell silent for a moment, his dark blue eyes pensively focused on his old teammate. When he finally spoke up, his voice was quieter than before, "You came out here just for this?"

"Yup," Shisui nodded nonchalantly, as if it made perfect sense to drop seven hundred dollars on a last-minute plane ticket to see a teammate he didn't even really get along with well in the past.

A subtly overwhelmed look appeared in Sasuke's eyes, and he turned his entire face towards the window to watch the blurred images of buildings and thought-out flora placements zoom by. Itachi was nearly taken aback at how fiercely Sasuke grasped his hand when he reached over to give it a light squeeze, though he didn't recoil.

The conversation eased into Kisame asking Shisui about his hand problems - an issue that most Melee players experienced during their careers - and offering to try to work on it once they got to the restaurant. The two up front seemed to not notice the change in Sasuke's demeanor, or they knew not to make an issue out of it. Either way, Itachi rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of Sasuke's hand as he idly watched the city's sites fly through his vision. Kisame really did drive too fast, at times; he must be rather hungry.

Thanks to the city's layout, there was no parking lot provided for patrons that visited the short strip of buildings where the soup dumpling restaurant was located. Kisame, spoiled by big-city parking lots, struggled a bit with fitting his Charger into the tiny parallel parking spot on the road's shoulder. By the time he managed to put the car in park, Sasuke had unbuckled his seatbelt and was already unzipping the front of his gown.

"I'm thinking of getting it repainted," Kisame said while stepping around the front of the car.

Shisui shut the passenger door with a slam, "You don't like the blue?"

"Nah, it's great, but I've been seeing these really sexy matte, almost satin-y paint jobs lately. It's been in the back of my mind for a few weeks."

Sasuke still looked lost in thought as he struggled with some part of his gown that had gotten caught in his belt, standing off to the side of the car.

"You look good in a suit," Itachi noted, ignoring the other two as they started gushing about paint jobs and body kits.

The teenager's cheek twitched into a brief half-smile but, otherwise, he didn't respond. Finally, he managed to pull the fabric out of where it was twisted into a loop, and crumpled it up into a ball before chucking it into the backseat.

He was so wrapped up in whatever was going on inside his own head that, as he stepped back to shut the door, he didn't see the white SUV that was driving much too far over the speed limit for a road as narrow as the one they were standing on.

Itachi's mind vacated. He could already see it - Sasuke's blood splattered over the pristine hood of the Cadillac, pooling beneath his mangled body. Limbs twisted in all the wrong directions. Clickbait headlines about the tragic story of an orphaned teenager being killed just as his life had begun. Itachi would be forced to relearn what it's like to live without family.

Because that's what Sasuke was.

Blood or not, Sasuke was a brother to him.

Panic or an ingrained need to take care of him took hold, Itachi wasn't quite sure, and he thanked the high heavens for Kisame pushing him through all of those workouts as he moved faster than he was sure he ever had. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he rounded the back of Kisame's charger and grabbed both of Sasuke's upper arms hard enough for him to know there would be bruises later.

An aggressive horn blared from the SUV, drowning out the surprised gasp that Sasuke released into Itachi's ear as he was pulled out of the street.

Neither of them registered their names being shouted in horror while Itachi tightly wrapped his ams aound the teenager's body, twisting them around and shoving Sasuke into the Charger. There was a chance that he would still be hit, Kisame had parked too close to the line, but at least Sasuke would be okay.

Keeping him safe was all that mattered.

They both stiffened when a strong rush of air passed over them in time with the Cadillac blowing by, not having even slown down at the prospect of killing two strangers. Itachi's ears were ringing from the horn so he hadn't heard whatever obscenity had been shouted at them, but he was too focused on Sasuke's erratic breathing and the way he was clinging to his t-shirt.

It didn't quite register that the short-lived event was over, even as he felt Kisame's hand on his shoulder, his lips on his head.

"Holy shit, holy _shit_ ," Shisui sounded thoroughly panicked, and rightfully so.

"Are you two okay?" Kisame didn't sound any less shaken as he looked in the direction of the speeding vehicle, "What a fuckin' maniac. He could'a killed you two!"

Itachi ignored them both, pulling back only enough to get a look at Sasuke's face while his hands started patting his body, looking for any sore spots, "Sasuke, are you injured?"

It took a moment for him to get his bearings but, when he did, he stiffly shook his head and looked down at Itachi's body, "What about you? Did - it didn't hit you?"

"I'm alright," Itachi paused to take a long, deep inhale, then forced himself to slowly release it to still his still-shaken nerves. When his breathing was under control and his heart no longer felt as if it was about to crack through his ribcage, Itachi's hands skirted over Sasuke's arms to hold the back of his head, bringing their foreheads together. "Just be more vigilant in the future - the last thing I want is to see you get hurt."

Speechless, probably from the close call, Sasuke nodded wordlessly, his gaze downcast.

With their previously celebratory mood significantly sobered, they quietly made their way over the sidewalk and towards the door of the restaurant.

* * *

"I don't get it, why exactly is this chick being such a bitch to the main girl?"

Itachi would have snorted at his boyfriend's coarse explanation of the current scene if he wasn't close to falling asleep and melting through the carpet. "Imperial harems had an important ranking system in the Forbidden City throughout Chinese history. Would you like me to explain it?"

_Empresses in the Palace_ made a large assumption that its viewers would all already have a background knowledge on the history of Chinese Royalty so, to put it simply, Itachi somewhat expected Kisame to be lost at some point. It wasn't very kind to people who were basically going in blind.

Kisame grunted, fingers kneading carefully at the knot in his shoulder, "Probably won't remember, anyways. I was shit at history in high school."

"I promise it isn't anywhere near as difficult as you think it is, since this is based in the Qing Dynasty," Itachi reassured him after bringing his arms up to pillow his head; there was no point in him trying to explain this if his face was still smushed into the blanket he was laying on. "At the very bottom of the system was the Female Attendant class who, as their title suggests, are essentially female servants who double as minor concubines. It escalates to Second and First Class Female Attendant. The emperor was allowed an unlimited number of women assigned to the Attendant classes, as well as with the rank above them, the Noble Lady."

He groaned quietly into his arm when Kisame hit the bundle of muscle at just the right angle, his toes curling a little at the pleasurable pain.

"Anyways, he also was allowed six Imperial Concubines, four Consorts, two Noble Consorts, one Imperial Noble Consort, and one Empress. Their importance escalates in that order, with the Imperial Noble Consort running the harem for the Empress. The woman being 'A bitch' as you so eloquently put it," Itachi nodded lazily at the screen when Consort Hua appeared on screen, "Is the Imperial Noble Consort. Zhen Huan quickly became the favored member of Emperor Yongzheng's harem, which is why she is being promoted at such a rapid rate, so Hua Fei knows her position within the harem will be threatened."

Kisame chuckled, "So, what, if you're good in the sack that means you get promoted?"

Itachi rolled his eyes, "The harem existed to provide the emperor with a strong lineage, Kisame. Concubines were promoted by providing healthy sons, and by proving themselves to be good company for the emperor by… Providing… Conversation or playing… Music…" he trailed off with a moan of approval, unable to concentrate at the way Kisame switched from massaging with his fingertips to using his thumbs to slide up into the tense muscles in his neck.

"Too hard?"

With a hum, Itachi closed his eyes. The actresses spoke in such soft voices, and the blanket that separated him from the plush carpet almost felt as if they were working in tandem with Kisame's ministrations to put him to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time he had conked out during one of his massage sessions – the last time Kisame worked on Itachi's hands after a rather arduous training session, he had fallen asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until dinner was being served.

There was an ache behind Itachi's eyes that he hadn't even been aware of being there, but Kisame was somehow managing to alleviate the phantom pain as his thumbs worked into the back of his neck and the base of his skull, stopping only to brush his hair out of the way.

In the back of his mind, Itachi always wished he could do something like this for him. Kisame was always cooking meals for the team, helping work out job-related aches, assisting Konan with her paperwork and in-game strategies, providing help at the gym when asked, and just making sure that everyone in the house was taken care of, that Itachi had to wonder when he ever found the time to simply take care of himself. It wasn't fair that everyone was reaping the benefits of Kisame's care without providing anything in return…

Suddenly, Itachi felt guilty for being so pampered.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Kisame's hands eased up on the pressure and slid down to rest between his shoulders, "Shit, did I hurt you?"

Long lashes fluttered open at the sudden loss of contact. Itachi could actually feel the distance between them grow as Kisame sat back on his heels, and his hand was only barely touching his upper back, so it was kind of an unexpected shock.

"No, no, I just…" he rose up on one elbow to try and comb his fingers through his mussed up hair, "All I ever do is take advantage of your kindness."

"What? No, babe," Kisame reached out to help him into a sitting position, "Why would you think that?"

"You're always helping me with my back, or with the gym, or making me food…" Itachi frowned at his fingers, which were thumbing the hem of his shirt, "You always do anything I ask, you never complain about anything, and I have no way to repay you for everything you do for me."

With a soft chuckle, Kisame scooted closer to him and shifted so that he was sitting on the floor, before smoothing his hands over Itachi's waist. "Babe, you're acting like I'm an indentured servant."

"No, I didn't mean it like –" Itachi's head snapped up, eyes wide and alarmed, only to be met with Kisame's lopsided grin. He sighed and looked back down at his lap, "I want to deserve you, is all."

Kisame felt his arms tense at that, and his smile faltered, "Babe, you think I'd do all that if I didn't want to?" he asked quietly, one of his thumbs stroking his waist. When Itachi didn't answer, he continued with, "Are you not happy?"

"Kisame, of course I am," Itachi turned his face back up to meet the kind blue eyes that gazed back at him, twisting in his hold a little so he could brush his fingertips along the tattoos on one of his cheekbones, "I'm happy with you, I just… _Mm_ …" A kiss silenced him, preventing him from elaborating on the impending rant that stemmed from years of living with only just enough self-worth to get him through the day. Itachi's lashes fluttered shut as he savored the warm, sweet taste of his boyfriend's mouth.

If there was one thing he could appreciate from his boyfriend, it was his kissing. Kisame always seemed to put full effort into each kiss, getting his entire mouth involved and never content with stiffly pursed lips or small pushes. Itachi felt like he was drowning in him each and every time he brought their faces together, and he had absolutely no problem with that.

It was over all too soon. Itachi had nearly forgotten what they were even talking about by the time he remembered how to open his eyes.

"That's all I want, Itachi," Kisame nearly whispered, voice husky and lips slick, "I want to take care of you, and I want you to be happy," he touched their foreheads together, nuzzling the side of his nose a little, "It doesn't matter who deserves what as long as we're both happy together." He brought their lips back together.

And he _meant_ it. Shit, Kisame was happy simply lounging on his own bed with a magazine while Itachi used his PC to stream – it was why he suggested the first time after he walked in on his scheduled session in the training room. Just watching him talk and react to different situations as they popped up on his monitor, seeing his eyebrows rise in surprise at a jumpscare and listening to him laugh at the Buttstallion joke in _Borderlands 2_ , that was all the return Kisame needed.

With a quiet sucking noise, he managed to peel his lips away from Itachi's by pulling back just far enough to make eye contact with him; he tried to not feel too proud at the hazy way he blinked back at him, knowing he was responsible for it.

Their lips met soon after, and Itachi found himself worshiping Kisame's with every fiber of his being. A sudden desperate need for more of Kisame hit him with the full force of a tidal wave, and he found himself looping his arms around Kisame's shoulders to tug him closer, to cling to him as tightly as he could. His pulse started to rush in his ears as his heart decided to kick into overdrive, providing an adrenaline rush that was making it very hard for Itachi to think about anything other than the man that was developing a track record for shattering his composure.

What happened earlier today on the street could have ended this. That driver could have paralyzed Itachi so that he could never walk or hold someone again, or he could have died and never felt the warm affection of another human's touch ever again.

He would have never been able to do this - to kiss Kisame and hold him in his arms like this.

Everything inside of him was thrown in unmitigated turmoil. Itachi's chest hurt and felt so very heavy and felt light and warm, and his heart felt like it is going to shatter into pieces even as the little invisible cracks healed themselves. He felt exhausted, and excited, and he was shivering but his body felt so hot that Itachi was absolutely sure that he was going to crumble into ash at any moment.

"Your heart is racing…" Kisame breathed, sinking his teeth into Itachi's lower lip.

"I'm sorry, I –" Itachi was cut off by his own moan when a warm tongue smoothed out the little indents that had just been made into the soft flesh of his lip.

"Don't apologize, baby," Kisame brought up one of his hands to cup the nape of his neck, "Do you wanna stop?"

Itachi's breath caught in his throat and he struggled to find words. Of course he didn't want to stop – he wanted to pull him onto the bed and shed their clothing so that there was nothing keeping them apart, and he wanted to feel his skin moving on his, and his heartbeat thumping against his chest, but Kisame pulled back anyways to look at him curiously, studiously.

And, just like that… The turmoil stopped.

A quiet calm settled over Itachi like a warm blanket that had just been taken out of the dryer. It billowed inside of him for a moment, before sinking down to lay over his tense muscles, calming his painfully racing heart and slowing his rapid breathing, wrapping around all of the fear and anger and hurt that insisted on haunting him like a vengeful wraith. It tucked it all away into the dark corner of his heart that's reserved for everything bad that lurks inside of him, so that all Itachi felt was the smooth tranquility that wasn't unlike the still morning air in spring.

Kisame's eyes had a knowing look to them, and he let his head fall back when Itachi leaned in to brush his parted lips along the skin of his throat. He breathed in deeply, taking in the spicy aroma of Kisame's body wash, which lingered over his own natural scent like a thin veil over an open window. It was as intoxicating as it was comforting, and Itachi's eyes slid shut, his face turning enough for his cheek to glide along his pulse and his breath heating the skin beneath it.

Itachi's name slipped past Kisame's lips, whose fingers nestled into his hair, and he sighed in response.

There was an amalgamation of indescribable emotions that swirled around inside of him, though he wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of the way they made the tips of his fingers tremble and his shoulders quiver. Kisame didn't seem to mind and Itachi already knew that he wasn't shaking due to being upset, or afraid of himself, or because he felt like a crystal figurine teetering dangerously on the edge of a curio shelf.

It's because he was wholly, incontrovertibly in love, and he almost lost that today.

He loved him so much that it lit up his nerves and made them twitch in subdued excitement at this newfound knowledge.

This was not a negative thing. This was not something that Itachi was afraid of, like he may have been before. He was trembling because this was simply how he responded to the love that had been patiently lying in wait to be realized.

A content smile tugged at Itachi's lips as he trailed his lips up along the curves of Kisame's throat and over his jaw, until they were hovering over his ear.

"Kisame…" he pressed a kiss into one of his many piercings, "Get on the bed."

A shiver raced down Kisame's spine, and he shuddered around it in response. He didn't ask if he was sure – he could hear it in Itachi's voice. Whatever had overcome him earlier had dissipated, and it had been replaced with a quiet resolve that told Kisame that whatever happened next wasn't because they were overwhelmed by their own emotions, but because this was something that they both genuinely wanted.

They picked themselves up off of the floor and Kisame guided Itachi with him towards the bed until the backs of his thighs bumped against the mattress, where he dropped down to sit on the sheets. His hands were still on Itachi's waist, so he slid them upwards with fleeting touches until his shirt was high enough to expose his pretty pale skin; Kisame leaned forward and placed a tender kiss just above his pierced navel, satisfaction running through him at the way Itachi's skin broke out into goosebumps.

Long, pale fingers gently ran along his collar to apply only the barest of pressure, and Kisame took the hint and started crawling back on the bed to make room for Itachi, whose dark eyes refused to leave his as he climbed after him. Kisame reached out for him once he was within arm's reach, guiding him into the pillows next to him. He leaned in to press his lips over both of his swollen eyes, slowly and gently, kissing away the last of the tears that clung to his long black lashes. His own eyes close when Itachi's fingertips began to trace the swells of his muscles.

He stayed silent for a while longer as he pondered over how to respond, and Itachi's hand left his to trail back up to the intricate tattoo that never ceased to leave him fascinated. It was such an exquisite design, perfectly unique to Kisame and the culture he carries with him. He made the mental note to ask what each detail means in the future; Itachi was admittedly ignorant on tattoo culture outside of what Haku told him about Yakuza designs, but he remembered hearing something in one of Sasori's documentaries about how each solid triangle and curve in an authentic tribal tattoo is supposed to represent something.

"If that's what you want, then… I want it to go both ways," Kisame finally responded, uncertainty lingering behind the breathtaking intensity of his gaze.

Itachi couldn't say that he blamed him – the idea of having himself exposed was one thing, though it was something else to take away the security of clothing from someone else and, briefly, he fought to understand exactly why Kisame was making the request.

That was when Itachi realized that he hadn't ever actually undressed anyone else. Almost all of his intimate encounters were during his time as a prostitute, where clients undressed themselves upon being guided to a private room, and his only sexual history outside of that involved Kakashi and his first awkward attempts at sex with his high school sweetheart… Huh, now that he thought about it, Itachi couldn't recall a single time where he actually enjoyed sex.

Today was full of revelations; revelations that he would process later when he was given a moment to himself. As much as he loved Kisame with all of his being, Itachi needed quiet introspection to determine how his feelings affected him, before sharing these things with him.

What he didn't need time to mull over, however, was the sheer amount of trust that he instilled into Kisame and their relationship, as new as it still technically was at just under five months. Things had moved so fast between them that it had all but taken Itachi by storm, but Kisame had still managed to be everything that Itachi needed him to be. Kind, patient, caring, safe, compassionate…

And Itachi decided that he wanted to share everything with him, including this. He wanted to be the one to remove the thin layers of security that their clothes provided, to be the one that laid Kisame bare, as it was the same was being done to him.

Suddenly, his request made perfect sense.

Itachi squeezed his bicep with the barest of smiles, "Come take a bath with me." Bathing together would make the experience feel much more organic than just shedding their clothing over the sheets; it would also remove any sexual undertones that may lurk in the back of their minds.

Kisame's eyes widened in time with his cheeks flushing, "Are you sure?" He had just meant that he wanted their undressing to be mutually performed, not…

"Just to bathe," Itachi clarified before leaning in for a kiss.

"No, no, of course, I wouldn't expect…" he took a long, deep breath to settle his stunned nerves, exhaling in a large whoosh and saying, "Alright, but only if it's what _you_ want. If you're _absolutely_ sure."

"I'm going to get some sleeping clothes," he whispered against Kisame's lips, kissing him once more before turning away to climb off of the bed.

While he was more than content with stealing another one of his massive shirts, Itachi was going to need a clean pair of underwear, and the short time apart would give Kisame enough time to himself to sort out his own feelings on Itachi's request - he really did look apprehensive, even if it was most likely because he was concerned about experiencing another one of Itachi's panic attacks that, thankfully, hadn't been a problem long enough for him to be confident that this was the right decision.

It seemed that Kisame was just as sure as he was because, when he stepped out of his bedroom with his pajamas in hand, he was lingering at the end of the hall with much more reassuring body language. His shoulders were relaxed and he was leaning against the wall casually, idly swinging his sleeping pants side to side as he waited. Even if Kisame still looked a tad nervous, his eyes weren't doubtful and he flashed a grin once their gazes met.

The encouraging change in his demeanor lifted Itachi's spirits until he opened the door for him with a goofy butleresque "After you, sir."As soon as they actually stepped into the bathroom, Itachi felt his anxiety start to crawl up his throat.

Motivation was a fickle little shit.

When the door shut behind them, the quiet click of the brass mechanism sliding into place felt loud enough to be nearly defeaning. It was a soft little sound but, with the way Itachi's ears were ringing and his throat was tightening, it might has well have been a gunshot that resonated off of the hard surfaces of the bathroom.

"You ever take a bath with another person before?"

Itachi nearly flinched at the sudden sound of Kisame's voice, "Shisui and I would bathe together when we were children," he said while crossing the tile over to the bathtub, making a gallant attempt to keep his voice calm, "I'm afraid that's the extent of my experience. You?"

The roar of the water crashing down to the porcelain muffled the sound of metal clinking against the counter, "There aren't too many tubs that can fit me, to begin with. I don't think I've been in one since I was eight," Kisame paused, "Fucked someone in a jacuzzi, once, though."

A delicate snort escaped Itachi's lips as he twisted the faucet handles to adjust the water's temperature, "That's disgusting. Do you know how filthy those are?"

"I do, but there's a level of drunk you can get to where you just sorta don't care," Kisame sat down on the edge of the platform as he spoke.

"I'm sure it was a very proud moment in your life."

"Totally. I had a trophy made, and everything."

Itachi rolled his eyes and turned away from the faucet now that the water was warm enough to be hot but not so hot that he would walk away with blisters. The short banter was enough to ease some of his nervousness but, as soon as he saw the other man waiting patiently for him, he felt his shoulders tighten up.

Of course, Kisame had a sixth sense for discomfort, and reached out with both hands to rest them on his waist. "You want me to step out? You don't have to do this."

His eyes rolled over the now metal-free piercings, taking in the way some holes just looked like healed puncture wounds while the stretched lobes looked almost wilted. Weird.

"No, I..." Itachi shifted, "I want to undress you, Kisame." He _needed_ this. He needed to do this for himself.

Dark eyebrows rose just a tad in mild surprise but Kisame didn't look bothered by the reiteration of his own earlier request, despite the slight quiver in his voice. Instead, he let his hands fall to hang between his thighs and offered a small smile, "Alright. Whenever you're ready."

This wouldn't have been the first time Itachi had ever seen him undressed; he had seen him strip down to his underwear in the locker rooms on a handful of occasions. Still, he found his fingers lingering around the hem of Kisame's t-shirt as he hesitated. It was one thing to see him peel out of sweaty gym shorts while on his way to a private changing room, but it was something completely different to actually be the one to pull his clothing away from his body.

It was so _intimate_.

Kisame's abs flexed as he stretched up to make it easier for his shirt to be removed, lifting his arms over his head while Itachi readjusted his hold. The backs of his knuckles grazed over his skin as Itachi tugged the shirt over his chest, and he was almost surprised to feel just how warm Kisame was.

"Your fingers are fucking freezing," he joked a little breathily before the piece of clothing was brought over his head.

Itachi would have offered a lukewarm laugh if he wasn't wrestling with himself internally to put down the shirt. For some reason he was keeping it bunched in his hands, which were beginning to shake even as his slender fingers gripped the fabric tighter in an attempt to make them still.

Releasing the shirt meant that he would be prompted to move to the next piece of clothing, which was...

Kisame's hands came up to gently tug it away, chucking it off to the side, to lace their fingers together. He pulled Itachi forward so that he was standing between his knees, and tilted his face up for a kiss.

"Baby, it's just me," he murmured, "This is _just_ my body, just more of _me_ ," Kisame brought his hands up so that they were resting on his warm, broad shoulders, "You aren't afraid of me. You don't need to be afraid of my body."

Itachi let his hands linger on his shoulders for a moment longer before dragging his fingertips over the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and falls of his collarbones, and the gentle dip in between his pectorals. When he flattened his hands over Kisame's developed chest, he could feel he steady beat of his heart beneath his palm.

He was right.

This was just Kisame's _body_ \- he was just undressing _Kisame_.

"I need you to, uh, stand up," Itachi said quietly, stepping back to give him some room. It wouldn't be easy to shimmy off his jeans if he was still sitting on the tiled platform that the tub was set into.

"Right, right," Kisame leaned back to turn the faucets off now that the tub was about two-thirds of the way full before rising to a standing position.

Fingertips trailed downwards to trace the outline of his abs; Itachi's eyes watched the muscles twitch under the featherlight touches, but Kisame didn't complain about any tickling.

His heart fluttered when they came in contact with the tops of his jeans, and his breath hitched at the same time the top button popped open. Without water pouring from the faucet the room was thrown back into a deafening silence, and the sound of the zipper being pulled down felt like it was a hundred times louder than it actually was.

Memories, sharp and harshly vivid, trickled into the forefront of Itachi's consciousness. Being shoved onto his knees, ordered to open Kakashi's jeans, forced into being the one to free this wretched length from the confines of the denim, being struck hard enough for bruises to form if he refused… He could still taste the bile on the back of his tongue from his throat resisting the abuse it was enduring.

Itachi pressed a long, slow kiss into the center of Kisame's chest to steady himself, focusing on the warmth of his skin. He listened to Kisame's gentle sigh. Itachi's dark eyes slid shut at the sensation of his hair being pulled out of its tie, and leaned into Kisame's chest when he felt his fingers bury themselves into the inky locks.

Hooking the tips of his fingers under the denim waistband, Itachi lowered himself so that he was kneeling on the floor, his face parallel to Kisame's groin. After a little more effort than what was initially anticipated, he was able to slide his jeans over the curve of his rear and pull them down, leaving Kisame's patterned boxers where they sat just below the defined V of his lower torso.

Kisame's hand was still nestled in his hair, not guiding or pulling, but simply following his movements. When Itachi was finished helping him step out of the rough fabric that was pooled around his ankles, he took the time to smooth his palms over the curves of his legs. They weren't glancing get-to-know-you touches, and Itachi's heart felt like it was going to explode or fall out his butt, he wasn't really sure which, as he moved upwards.

Once his fingers slid under the top of his boxers, the elastic band rough against the pads of Itachi's fingers, he paused long enough to meet Kisame's gaze. Itachi wasn't sure if he'd ever find himself able to not be taken aback by just how intensely those blue eyes looked down at him, but he could also see that, to a degree, Kisame was as jittery as he was. The hand in his hair came around to push Itachi's bangs back before cupping his cheek, one thumb stroking the soft skin under his eye.

There was a reassurance in knowing that he wasn't the only one with butterflies in his stomach, and Itachi's heart stopped thumping painfully against his ribcage enough for him to lean in and kiss along the curve of his hip.

In pretty much every circumstance, staring was pretty rude. Staring was something you did when something was considered to be out of the ordinary – or completely bizarre, if you didn't want to sugarcoat it – so Itachi took extra care to keep his eyes focused on the plaid cotton as he slid it down past Kisame's thighs. He didn't really think this whole process through when he dropped to his knees like this, because he was mostly just thinking about rewriting the memory of his experience with this position, and Itachi was indescribably thankful that the penis that was approximately six inches in front of his face didn't get the wrong idea.

However, he was still blushing furiously by the time the boxers fell to the floor, so Itachi wasted no time in springing to his feet to turn his back to the other man so he could start stripping while his boyfriend got into the tub.

Kisame clearly had a different idea, because Itachi could see his extraordinarily blue eyes flash in the mirror's reflection as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around his slim shoulders, effectively stopping him halfway through removing his shirt.

Oh… Right.

At first nothing was said, Kisame just buried his face in the hair that cascaded down Itachi's back. He inhaled deeply, eyes sliding shut, then exhaled just as slowly. It took a couple more moments of silence before Kisame's arms loosened enough for his hands to skirt over Itachi's arms, stopping to rest on his waist.

"Itachi…" he nudged some of his hair back so he could press a tender kiss to Itachi's temple, "Will you let me take off your clothes?"

Despite this entire situation being _his_ idea, he stiffened for all of a second. A part of him, the part that was created to protect him from ever being hurt like that again, whispered warnings in its vile, oily voice in the back of his head. It reminded him of what happened the last time he trusted someone enough to allow them to disrobe him, of how it almost cost him his life. It reminded him of the nights he spent awake in fear, jumping at every creak and gust of wind that blew past his window.

There was another part of him, this one much larger, that told him that he couldn't keep living his life scared of someone that couldn't hurt him anymore. What Kisame had said earlier was right – Itachi _wasn't_ fearful of him. Had he honestly wanted to take advantage of him, there were plenty of easier opportunities during the nights they spent together, especially the night when he was drunk. But that wasn't the kind of person Kisame was. Kisame was kind, and gentle, and was infinitely patient, so much so that he was still asking permission to do something that he had already been invited to do.

He loved him. Itachi loved him _so_ _much_. He wanted this as much as he needed it to heal, and of course he was sure of this. A year ago Itachi could hardly stand physical contact, and he was barricading his bedroom door. Kisame had taught him how to learn how to enjoy being touched, and held, and kissed, and he taught him how to trust… Itachi wanted to push past this barrier for himself, so he could learn what it was like to be exposed to someone else, and be excited and craving that person's touch, as opposed to being afraid and disengaging himself from the situation.

Placing his hands over Kisame's, Itachi curled their fingers around the hem of his t-shirt.

"Tell me, baby," Kisame murmured into his hair, flattening his hands over his belly, "Don't just show me - tell me what you want."

Itachi leaned back and rested his head on Kisame's shoulder, turning his face up to brush their lips together.

"Undress me, Kisame."

He moved slowly. Kisame's hands hardly paid any attention to the shirt itself, smoothing over Itachi's body at a snail's pace. He could feel his fingers pass over each rib, the rough calluses on his palms scratching lightly at his skin – so lightly that Itachi felt his skin break out into goosebumps again. The dark fabric only followed Kisame's wrists as they moved higher, pausing just below his chest.

"Is this okay?" Kisame asked quietly as his thumbs gently massaged the skin there in slow, sure movements that elicited a soft sigh from the slighter man.

Itachi nodded, placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips as he raised his arms invitingly.

The shirt hit the ground with a quiet, muffled sound as it landed with the rest of the discarded clothing. Kisame's hands began to trail back downwards just as slowly as before as his lips fluttered through Itachi's hair.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Itachi nodded silently.

"Then open your eyes."

He hadn't even realized that his eyes slid shut, he was so relaxed in the embrace that held him to Kisame's body. Itachi lifted his head up from where it was resting in the hollow of his shoulder, lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes to peer at their reflection in the mirror.

Contrary to what he was expecting, Kisame wasn't looking at him – or, rather, he wasn't meeting his gaze. That fierce gaze was focused on his face from the side, and it wasn't until his fingers grazed the waistband of his pants that he turned his head enough to lock those piercing eyes on his own. Itachi's hands covered his forearms, holding them gently and feeling the muscles flex beneath Kisame's warm skin as he twisted the top button open.

Just like that, his heart rate skyrocketed.

"Wait, wait," Itachi breathed, the sudden tightness in his throat leaving him struggling for air, squeezing his forearms. It felt like someone jammed cotton into his mouth just before dumping icy water over his form; he had to screw his eyes shut and squeeze Kisame's forearms hard enough for his dark skin to burn white just to keep himself grounded.

_Blood. Itachi tastes blood._

_The bed creaks beneath him, the springs in the mattress squealing in protest, the frame smacking against the wall hard enough for the poster over his bed to quiver slightly as if caught in a light breeze. Idly, Itachi wonders if there's this much noise because he's being fucked that hard, or if his bed was simply losing its durability from being rocked so frequently._

_"Mm, you're so quiet tonight…" a familiar voice pulls him from his thoughts, "Do I bore you, sweetheart?"_

_He bites the pillow harder when Kakashi's thrusts begin to lose their rhythm, opting for short, fast movements. Itachi's pretty sure that the blood from the cut on the inside of his cheek is staining the pillowcase, but he can't bring himself to care as he screws his eyes shut. His entire body aches from his muscles being tense for so long. His jeans had long since begun to chafe his thighs where they were sitting above his knees, rubbing at his flesh with every one of Kakashi's movements._

_"Come on, Itachi…" Kakashi grabs a fistful of his hair, which was already partway pulled out of his ponytail, and yanks hard enough for Itachi to be sure that he felt a couple of strands to pluck free of his scalp-_

Without a moment's hesitation, Kisame's hands left hips to circle his waist, "Alright, baby. Do you want me to get dressed?"

It took several moments for Itachi to dislodge his tongue from the roof of his mouth, where it had apparently become stuck, and even more for him to remember how to breathe.

"No, I just… I need a moment," he finally said shakily while he twisted his body around so he could lace his fingers together behind Kisame's neck.

Itachi let himself be held tightly, his head falling forward to press soft kisses along Kisame's chest to calm his shaking nerves.

Massaging the nape of his neck with one hand, Kisame lifted the other to capture Itachi's chin and tilt his face up so he could bring their lips together in a lush and unhurried kiss. Slowly, delicately, his lips ghosted along Itachi's face to press kisses into his eyebrows, the corners of his nose, over his eyelids, behind his ears; places that one wouldn't think to show tenderness until someone had done it to you and sent little tingles down your neck. It quelled the sickening tension in his belly, and slowed his breathing until it was in time with the rise and fall of Kisame's chest.

Just like earlier, a soothing sensation coursed through Itachi's veins, calming his fraying nerves and easing the muscles that were threatening to seize. As it stood, he was pretty sure that there was no other way to live than with this man constantly reaching out to hold him. What he wouldn't do to find a way to spend every moment with him for the next billion years…

Itachi felt his chest swell, and he stood up on his tip toes for a long, slow kiss.

"Keep going," he quietly instructed against Kisame's lips, "Strip me down, Kisame, put your hands on me."

Kisame's mouth moved gently over his while his hands returned to the waistband of his pants. It took some fumbling thanks to Itachi favoring skinny jeans that clung to his frame but, after a few moments, Itachi could feel his fingers dip under the fabric.

There was an immediate sense of emptiness when Kisame lowered himself to his knees in a mirror of his own earlier position, sitting back on his heels but still close enough for his lips to hover just over the elastic band of his trunks. A pleasant tingle spread to his fingers and toes at the warm, wet feeling of Kisame's breath against his skin.

"I'll tell you," Itachi reassured him when they locked eyes, Kisame's full of a silent question.

One hand reached back behind him to support his weight on the counter while the other found itself drawn to the shock of blue hair that was positioned in front of his hips; Kisame released an appreciative sigh when Itachi's fingers began to card through the coarse locks, but Itachi was nearly too lost in sensation to notice. The stone counter was cold and hard against his hips and palm, Kisame's scalp was warm beneath his fingers, his hands were rough and gentle on his legs, and his trunks were soft and warm…

Itachi's head fell back at the feeling of his jeans sliding down to his calves. Kisame's name may have passed through his lips, but he wasn't quite sure. His entire consciousness was centered on the parts where they were connected – particularly, Itachi was beginning to feel like every nerve in his body was migrating down to his hips where Kisame was pressing kisses into his skin and leaving a warm trail of saliva in his wake that rapidly chilled in the cool air of the bathroom.

At the feeling of fingers hooking under his underwear, Itachi looked back down to meet his impassioned gaze. After a brief pause that allowed them both to collect their bearings, he offered a subtle nod.

"I'm alright, chief."

Kisame smiled a little at that, leaning in to nuzzle the skin stretched tightly over his pelvic arch in appreciation.

There was always the feeling of mild terror when you fully undressed before another person for the first time. You were exposing the most personal parts of yourself, and you have absolutely no idea how they will react. Will they be disappointed? Will they want to touch you? Will they have a problem with the freckle on the underside of your shaft? What will they think of whatever hair arrangement you have going on?

Itachi's first instinct was to pull his hand away from Kisame's hair so he could pull his trunks back up to where they were previously sitting on his hips and, for about half of a second, he started to. His long fingers twitched and his stomach muscles tensed as his hips twitched away. Everything in his body language screamed discomfort, and Kisame froze.

Heat pooled in Itachi's cheeks and he knew that a blush was marring his face as he bit his lips, smiling shyly, "Just an onset of sheepishness."

Kisame's stiffened shoulders relaxed, that boyish smile reappearing and bringing all of the reassurance Itachi needed as his underwear was tugged down over his thighs. Cold air rushed to meet his newly exposed skin, and his body tightened again; this time, it wasn't him being nervous about how favorably looked upon his piercings would be.

"Kisame - wait, hold on."

_Itachi's fingers pull brutally at the sheets, his nails digging into the thin fabric and sending dull pain through his palms. He won't cry. He never cries. He refuses to._

_But it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. One would think that their body would be accustomed to this kind of brutish treatment after so many nights of being subjected to it but, no, each and every time it felt like he was being viciously ripped open, like it was a hot knife being forced into his body as opposed to a man's erection._

_A low, pained whimper melts into the pillow. How long has this been going on? An hour? Two? Long enough for the blood over his tailbone to have dried and cracked from when Kakashi slipped out earlier to rub himself between his cheeks. Long enough for his cold sweat to completely drench the sheets that reeked of violence. The pungent scent will linger on the surface of the mattress for hours. It feels like his prostate is being slammed into by a sledgehammer, or a police battering ram, it was so sore and beated._

_Kakashi mistakes his whimper for a moan and, in return, he offers one of his own as his hips go completely off-kilter._

_Nausea spreads through Itachi's gut. He knows what's going to happen next, and he isn't sure if it's worse than that he's currently enduring. Off in the distance he hears Yugao and Yamato laugh at whatever they're watching on TV downstairs. Itachi tries to focus on that, on anything other than the pain that made him feel as if he was being torn apart from the inside out, on anything other than the erratic pants above him, but he can't. Tonight he can't find the numbness that helped him through this. It hurts too much._

_What makes it so, so much worse are the flashes of pleasure that light up his hips, mitigating some of the intensity of his pain. As sore as his abused insides are, his body still finds a way to betray him with each thrust that meets his prostate head-on. It makes Itachi sick – more so than the long, hoarse groan that precedes the stilling of Kakashi's hips._

_The room spins as Itachi is reminded that he isn't breathing. He wonders what he did to deserve this – to feel so disgusting and violated and scared and to suffer the kind of sheer agony that blinded you. The hymns of his father's church, the words his father spoke into the microphone behind his gilded podium, they were nothing but lies. Delusions. Surely no loving deity could exist and allow someone to endure this much hurt; if a god existed, he was surely a demon –_

"Itachi… Baby…"

The sound of his name being breathed over his ear snapped Itachi out of his thoughts, like a hand that pulled him from the ocean he was drowning in. His lungs burned from his breath being held for so long, however long that was, and he released it all at once, feeling a little dizzy as he did so. Itachi wasn't quite sure when Kisame had stood up from his kneeling position, but he was more than grateful for his presence as he leaned into it.

"Kisame…"

One of his thick arms was curled around Itachi's waist, cradling him to his body. Kisame's other hand gently kneaded at the center of his back. Soft lips pressed kisses into his hair every few moments, each one in a different spot from the last, but Itachi still found it difficult to relax beneath his caring ministrations.

"You're safe, baby," Kisame whispered as he placed a kiss to the center of his part, "I won't touch you. I'm not gonna touch you."

Itachi kept his eyes closed and focused his attention on his breathing, trying to put it back in time with Kisame's like earlier instead of the ragged, uneven gasps that made his shoulders twitch and heave.

"Kisame…" It was all Itachi could manage to get out. He wanted to apologize, to assure the other man that this wasn't his fault, that his plan was backfiring, that he didn't realize he was pushing himself too hard too fast, but nothing other than Kisame's name would come out.

"Let's sit down for a sec," Kisame murmured. When Itachi nodded in agreement, he twisted them both around so that he was sitting with his back to the sink cabinets and Itachi cradled in his lap.

That was when Itachi realized that his lower half was much warmer than the rest of his body. One of his hands dropped down to touch his thigh, which was covered with a thick, fuzzy material. At first he opened his mouth to ask when it had appeared around his waist but, almost immediately after his lips parted, he figured that he had been so lost in his thoughts that Kisame had time to pull himself to his feet, grab the towel off of the rack and wrap it around his hips to protect his modesty.

Itachi finally sagged into Kisame's chest, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder, with a sigh that rang with his disappointment in himself. Of course he knew that he wouldn't lay a finger on Itachi without his consent – he had no reason to panic like he did…

"It's alright, Itachi," Kisame assured him quietly, letting his fingers trail down to his waist, then back up, "You weren't ready, yet. I understand."

"I should be," he muttered angrily. Shisui raised hell and threatened to get his connections to the yakuza involved just to get Itachi out of Team Anbu and away from Kakashi. What good was all of his hard work if he couldn't even manage to let his boyfriend to undress him?

"Babe, you were put through hell for _months_ –"

"And it's been just shy of a year since I got away," Itachi didn't look up from his lap as he ground the words out, "I need to move on with my life."

How long was he going to allow him to ruin his life?

Kisame didn't really know what to say to that. This wasn't territory he had experience in, and it felt like anything he could say would come off as patronizing and haughty. A couple of his physical therapy clients had issues with physical touch that he had to work around, but Kisame had never actually known anyone that had lived anything even remotely close to what Itachi went through. The most information he had to work with was the series of online resources and webpages that were primarily sharing their experiences with one instance of rape. Did Itachi need something different, being the victim of what was essentially physical and mental torture?

What if Itachi didn't even know what he was actually afraid of? He said he was afraid of being undressed, but could he really know that having the prospect of sex presented to him wouldn't send him into a panic attack? It was obvious that he had never gotten this far with someone else, so what if he was wrong?

It was obvious that Itachi was making a conscious effort to move past this, and Kisame genuinely wanted to commend him for that, but he didn't want to… Well, encourage him clearly pushing himself faster than he should be. The last thing Kisame wanted was for Itachi to misinterpret his praise and comforting as a green light to do something that could set him back, or incur even more damage to his psyche.

Was that supercilious of him to think? Looking at him, it was clear that Itachi was tearing himself apart over this; he was allowing his self-loathing to take control of his thoughts. It hurt to watch, it really did.

A thought occurred to Kisame just then, and he told himself that he would have to thank Zabuza later for the stroke of inspiration.

"Hey… You know how safe words work?" he asked, his gruff voice sounding odd in his own ears against the stark silence of the bathroom.

Itachi finally looked up from his lap, somewhat wary at the sudden turn of conversation, "Yes..?" As much as he read, it was hard to not stumble upon a novel that had mentions of BDSM. However, Itachi failed to see what this had to do with their current situation.

Kisame shifted a little, "Well, when things get too much for the submissive to take, they use the word that brings everything to a total stop. The dominant one – god, these terms feel weird," he made a face and released an uncomfortable laugh, "But they cuddle up once it's all over, and they talk it out. They talk about what was upsetting, what exactly was going through their heads, or they just talk about whatever."

Itachi blinked slowly at him, silently wishing that Kisame would simply get to the point instead of providing an explanation for something he already knew. This was one of the basic foundations of kink.

"When they're done, they either go through the process of getting back into a 'normal' head space or, if they're both up to it, they can pick up where they left off in the scene."

Something in Itachi's head clicked, and he had to make a conscious effort to not let his mouth open in surprise. "So you want to treat this like I called…" he tried to think of a creative safe word, but settled with the generic, "Red."

"Yeah," Kisame pressed a kiss to his temple.

Smart, and effective.

"Tell me what happened."

With a soft sigh, Itachi nestled his head into the hollow of Kisame's shoulder, "I told you before that my fears do not lie with sex, but with being undressed..."

One of Kisame's hands slid down to skim over his covered hip, "But something changed for you, just then," he gently pointed out.

"I merely..." A tension formed in Itachi's brow, "I recalled what always followed when my trousers were removed, and I suppose I allowed myself to get lost in the memory..." He frowned into Kisame's collar, "It has been a while since I have done that."

It had been quite some time since he even so much as thought about the rape, outside of the moments spared to Kisame for well-deserved explanations; not since that day in the dressing room.

Maybe that was his problem. Itachi always put so much thought into everything that happened, and everything he wanted to happen, and too often he found himself being the sole cause of his stress. The night at the bar was a perfect example of this - Itachi completely overreacted and, as a result, became dangerously intoxicated.

For once... Perhaps he should just stop trying to think so deeply into everything. Maybe he didn't need to analyze everything he felt and did.

Itachi tilted his face up so that his lips were able to press a tender kiss below Kisame's ear.

He hesitated for just a moment.

"I love you."

Like in most romances, he expected a moment of silence. Itachi braced himself for the heavy silence that was sure to come as Kisame processed the confession. Rejection was expected, like the morning he shamelessly threw himself at his boyfriend.

But none of those things ever came.

"Oh, _thank god_."

Immediately, Kisame hoisted him up in his arms and cupped Itachi's face to bring their lips together. The sudden intensity of his affection took Itachi aback for just a second before he snaked his hands over those broad shoulders to bury his fingers in his tousled blue locks. Itachi's eyes slid shut and he let the kiss deepen.

He didn't let himself think.

He didn't need to think with Kisame.

"I love you, too, baby," Kisame managed to whisper between kisses, "Fuck, oh _fuck_ , I love you."

This wasn't how Kisame wanted to have this happen. He wanted to make an evening out of it - he wanted to take Itachi out, treat him to that sushi place he liked on Second and Central and maybe find a nice, quiet park to just spend the night in comfortable silence. Kisame planned to wait until the moon was out so he could see it shine in Itachi's glossy black hair, and light up his features in the most beautiful way possible. Not like this, sitting naked on the bathroom floor.

Kisame should have been disappointed, but he wasn't.

Things never went the way they planned, anyways, did they? It only made sense that this was no exception.

"I want to continue touching you," Itachi all but whispered into their shared kiss.

A weight was lifted from his chest as he helped Itachi sit on the floor so he could straddle his thighs. Itachi's fingers tugged at his hair to pull Kisame closer, and he let his own large hands rest over his chest as he settled into Itachi's lap.

Kisame occupied every one of his senses. His face filled his field of vision, the sensation of his skin and warmth sank into Itachi's body, soft smacking sounds of their kisses and the quiet gasps and appreciative moans filled his ears. Kisame tasted sweet and clean as his tongue swirled around his own. The scent of something spicy and salty and unmistakably Kisame wafted off of his flesh, which was only slightly rough beneath Itachi's palms.

This was perfect.

Itachi smoothed his hands down over the contours of his torso with a touch light enough for his fingertips to rise and fall over the anterior muscles that swelled over his ribs, following the curve of his body to outline Kisame's hard abdominals. For a moment he paused and considered his options, but reminded himself how he needed to stop overthinking every decision he made, so Itachi continued journeying over Kisame's hips and down the length of his thighs. Itachi mapped out the swells of his developed muscle as his lips trailed along Kisame's sharp jaw, his eyes sliding shut as if he could imprint the sensation of skin on skin in his memory.

A part of him wanted to take things slow, to pace himself, but it had been so long since Itachi had felt someone else - really _felt_ them and indulged in the feeling of another person's body - and this was _Kisame_...

A low groan of anticipation escaped through the gaps in their kiss when Itachi's hands smoothed over his iliac furrow to curve along warm skin that was stretched over the swell of muscle at his rear. Satisfaction brewed in his chest when another moan was released as he squeezed.

"Baby..." Kisame slipped his fingers of one hand into Itachi's hair, "Shit..."

Both of their breathing began to quicken as Itachi's gentle squeezing turned into him kneading that firm muscle, and Kisame's hips rocked back into his hands, then back forward. Itachi repositioned his hands from where they had begun to slip, this time grabbing Kisame's ass hard enough for him to tilt his head back as he groaned. He had to bite his lip to keep quiet when Kisame took a fistful of his hair by the roots and tugged.

Gentle rocking somehow changed to slow grinding as Itachi sucked and licked his way down to Kisame's collar; the position they were in didn't allow for much movement on his part so he used his hold on Kisame's ass to help him grind down onto his growing erection.

"I wanna feel you," he whispered, the hand still resting over Itachi's chest sliding down between them to hover over the towel still wrapped around his waist. It was a subtle request, one that Itachi didn't miss.

His hands unwittingly left Kisame's ass to give him space to pull away so Itachi could lift his hips up. Kisame made quick work of the fluffy white towel, pulling it open without hesitation and splaying it over the hard tile before reclaiming his earlier position.

Reaching around Kisame's hips, Itachi took his freed length into his hand to pull it back so it could rest between Kisame's cheeks, rolling his hips just enough for it to run along that warm, sensitive flesh.

With their gazes locked on one anothers', a soft, eager sound got caught in Kisame's throat when he felt Itachi's erection rub against him. For as much whoring around as he had done in the past, he'd never had anyone else's cock down there before. Hell - he'd never even fingered himself in the past. It surprised him a bit but, over the undercurrent of fear, excitement trickled through his veins and urged Kisame to raise his hips and slide back down to feel the head of Itachi's length slide along his hole.

Oh man - oh _man_. If his heart wasn't racing before, it was now. Nervousness only fueled into his eager anticipation and, without realizing it, Kisame's hand had wrapped around his cock to leisurely stroke it; it wasn't enough to provide any real pleasure but it alleviated some of the uncomfortable pressure that was building.

Itachi watched with what could only be described as fascination as Kisame's eyes fluttered shut while he rubbed himself along Itachi's cock. Blood pounded in his ears and flushed his cheeks, and he had to pull his head back to lean against the cabinets so he could control his breathing, but his hand was slipping between them to wrap around his own length in a mirror of Kisame's movements.

In the past he had never really understood the appeal of heavily muscled men. Now, though, watching Kisame, watching the muscles in his forearm cord when he gripped himself harder, the way his abs pulsed when his breath caught, and when his thighs flexed with the effort of pushing himself back up…

Yeah, Itachi got it.

He leaned back forward to nip at Kisame's chest, sealing his lips around the swell of muscle there. There was just so _much_ of him – so much to lick and grab and squeeze – Itachi didn't know where to start. He felt like a passionate cartographer that had just discovered a whole new continent, and he wanted to go in every direction all at once.

Precome had by now slicked Kisame a fair bit – Itachi was something of a leaker – so when he sank back down to rub against Itachi's erection, the very tip slipped in enough for both of them to suck in sharp breaths.

Kisame saw Itachi's eyes slide shut and could see his shoulder roll faster as his stroking quickened, and he rocked his hips a bit to feel Itachi bump against him again. It had only been for a second, but it was enough for Kisame to feel a white hot bolt of arousal shoot straight down to his groin, and he couldn't help himself from shamelessly stripping his erection rough and fast.

Realistically they both knew that they wouldn't be able to have any sex like this – precome and spit didn't make an adequate enough lube, which was hidden in their bedroom drawers, but that didn't stop either of them from imagining how fucking amazing it would be to feel that again. From behind the safety of his closed eyelids Itachi envisioned being able to feel that tight, hot pressure wrapped around his length, and how it would feel to have Kisame using all that muscle to ride him hard and fast; Kisame's fist tightened around the head of his cock when he imagined being able to feel that same fullness again.

Both of them groaned as a familiar pressure coiled in their loins. The hand in Itachi's hair fell to his shoulder to help keep himself stable as Kisame rocked his hips, and Itachi's free hand left from where it was tightly gripping Kisame's ass to entwine their fingers together. He forced himself to open his eyes so he could watch Kisame's face – he wanted to see him when he reached that peak.

"Itachi…" Kisame's voice was tight, and he could see his muscles begin to tense, "Fuck, baby, I'm…"

In a sudden flash of inspiration, Itachi released his hand to slip his finger between his boyfriend's lips. His saliva was a little too thin for what he had planned, but Kisame's was that perfect slippery wetness and –

Kisame moaned around his fingers as his tongue swirled, and Itachi blanked on everything else other than imagining how fucking fantastic this would feel on his cock. His mouth was so warm and wet and Itachi had to fight every one of his animalistic urges that told him to just stand up and put those lips around his dick.

It seemed that Kisame was just as enthusiastic, because his head bobbed as he took more of Itachi's finger into his mouth, sucking on and swirling his tongue around the slender digit as his ragged breath puffed against his knuckles. Nearly every ounce of willpower was required for Itachi to pull his finger free once it was wet enough for what he wanted, but he was quickly rewarded by the excited groan that passed through Kisame's lips when he caught onto what was happening.

Swiping his fingertip over the head of his erection to gather a bead of precome, Itachi turned his wrist over to circle the tight pucker that he had been teasing. There was a little more resistance than he was expecting but, a moment later, he pushed past that first ring of muscle and the effect was almost instantaneous.

Kisame was too far gone for there to even be enough time for Itachi to find his sweet spot; just the delicious sensation of being filled was enough to push him over the edge. As soon as his orgasm hit with an almost blinding force, Kisame curled forward to find Itachi's lips in a bruising kiss as he clenched tight around the finger that was thrusting in and out in search for –

"Fuck, fuck, _Itachi_ –" Kisame's moan cut him short as something hot and a-fucking-mazing lit up in his hips. If he didn't just release every last ounce of liquid left in his body, he would've probably come again when Itachi pressed down on his prostate.

Itachi followed just a few frenzied strokes later, groaning around a full-body shudder as he found his release.

As much as Kisame just wanted to relish that post-orgasm high and all of the endorphins that flooded his system, he forced himself to pull back enough to get a look at Itachi's face. They came in here for a bath, Itachi specifically said he just wanted to bathe, but they had ended up…

"I am alright," he whispered, eyes still closed and his head resting against the cabinet door as he caught his breath.

"Are you sure?" Kisame fell off to the side to lean against the counter, facing Itachi, and gathered his boyfriend in his arms.

Itachi nodded and curled into his chest. Muscle seemed to have been replaced by a bunch of limp, overcooked noodles, because Itachi felt pleasantly floppy as he felt Kisame rub gentle circles into his back.

The bathwater was probably cold by now, having been sitting in the tub for too long. It was a shame; Itachi hated wasting anything. They could worry about it later, after wiping away the come that dripped between their cheeks and down their chests, because right now all Itachi wanted to do was cuddle and let himself be cuddled.

"I love you, baby," he heard Kisame murmur into his hair. Maybe it was for reassurance that he wasn't being used, or maybe it was just say it for the sake of saying it now that they had finally admitted it to each other, Itachi wasn't sure which.

Not like it mattered; Itachi's lips curved upwards into a content, if sleepy, smile.

"I know."


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akatsuki eSports: The everyone-needs-to-take-a-shower edition.
> 
> And I'm sorry if things have been a little all over the place. I've poured a lot of myself and my own experiences into Itachi's side of the story, which means that some of the scenarios depicted got me emotional in a way that my writing and pacing may have suffered. Someone complained that Itachi was a little too angsty, and that my pacing is weird during those scenes, so I'll try to work on that.

Sweat dripped down Itachi's back in an invisible thin trail that raced down to his hips; it did nothing to cool his heated flesh as he grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut.

"Kisame, I can't..."

Kisame leaned in close so that his lips rested just on the shell of Itachi's ear. His voice was low, and his breath passing over his ear made Itachi's skin break out in goosebumps as he said, "You can do it, baby."

Itachi would have whimpered if it didn't require the use of muscles that were currently screaming at him in protest. Instead, he shook his head and made an attempt to still his trembling knees.

"It's too much," he gasped.

The hands on his waist skirted up his body in a fiery trail before disappearing to somewhere out of Itachi's vision, "C'mon, we're almost there. Don't stop now."

Both of his fists tightened their hold. Itachi leaned his head back with a groan.

"Breathe," Kisame urged gently from behind.

Itachi's breath came out in a harsh burst. He was pushing himself too far. His muscles quivered and his body protested the stress he was putting on it.

"So close, baby."

Squaring his feet, Itachi straightened his back and, with one final burst of energy, stood up from where he was hovering in a half-squat to push the bar on his shoulders onto the rack. The subsequent _chnnk_ of metal on metal was muted by the blood that pounded in his ears as he nearly stumbled off to the side in search for the nearby wall; Itachi sagged against it while Kisame began removing the weights from each end of the bar.

At some point he must have slid down the treated concrete wall, which was deliciously cool against his hot skin, because Kisame knelt in front of where he was struggling to catch his breath, water bottle in hand.

"Told ya," he flashed a lopsided grin and passed over the metal container, "You're stronger than you think."

Itachi frowned but accepted the water, using his front teeth to pop open the spout, "You're trying to kill me."

Kisame chuckled and twisted around so that he was sitting against the wall with him, "I wouldn't've let you die."

Mouth too full of water, and his brain still recovering from squatting what felt like four times more than what the weights listed, Itachi didn't answer.

"I would've at least caught the bar before it crushed you. Ain't no way I'm paying for damages."

Itachi stared at him disapprovingly.

Kisame's hand patted his knee twice before smoothing over his thigh, "So, you ready to spend some time on the leg press?"

"Absolutely not."

There was no way Itachi was going to try to force his body to push more weights around when every muscle in his lower half was twitching as if being electrocuted in short, spastic bursts. He would do one of two things: Itachi would go home and soak in the tub for an hour to make it up to the muscles that would surely be aching tomorrow, or he would stay right where he was and fuse with the wall through osmosis.

Something told him that merging into concrete wasn't going to be an issue.

"C'mon, just three sets of twelve," Kisame was already pushing himself up off of the floor, "Super easy."

No, no, no, _nooooo_. Itachi was done. Anymore and he would die. Literally. He'd fall to pieces like a _Looney Toon_ , like Wiley Coyote when one of his plans went awry.

"If you do it and start a cooldown, I'll make you a poke bowl for lunch."

Itachi bit his lip and did his best not to pout. A Hawaiian dish that Kisame only made once before, a poke bowl consisted of raw ahi tuna that was marinated in shoyu, sesame oil and rice vinegar and served with rice, onion, scallions and some type of seaweed. It was pretty basic, but Kisame apparently made it with a coconut paste and some other things that deviated from the traditional style that pandered to Itachi's sweet-loving palate in all of the right ways.

He eyed the vacant leg press machine. His muscles ached and twitched, hinting that he was already close to his limit for the day.

But that poke bowl was so _good_...

Dammit.

Kisame's amusement was palpable as he watched his boyfriend trudge over to the other side of the weight room.

Thankfully, the exercise went a lot quicker than Itachi's lousy attitude wanted to believe it would. It wasn't long before he was finishing up a quick mile on the treadmill and scanning the gym for Kisame's shock of blue hair - the easiest way to find him when half of the people in the same room were as huge as he was.

' _Five minutes'_ he mouthed from where he was using a similar bar as the one from earlier for bench presses.

Itachi didn't want to think about how much weight was latched onto just _one_ end of the pole.

He didn't have to, though. His eyes left the bar to scale the length of Kisame's body, much of which was delightfully exposed thanks to his loose-fitting racerback, and the way his shorts rode up his thighs a bit when he planted his feet on either side of the bench. Sweat glistened in the fluorescent lighting with every one of Kisame's movements, adding highlights to his dark skin in a way that made a new, yet not entirely unfamiliar, kind of heat rush to Itachi's cheeks.

And those _muscles_...

Itachi bit his lip as his eyes continued to watch Kisame bring the bar back down to his chest with slow, sure movements. He watched him take controlled breaths to pace himself before pushing against the weights, and paid extra attention to the way his muscles flexed and bulged to raise the bar high enough for his arms to straighten.

There was so much power packed into that tight body...

Of course, something had to ruin his fun.

Itachi felt his mood sour - and his semi-erect penis soften, though that was probably for the better - when a girl with dyed purple hair caught his attention. Hair woven into a neat braid that swayed around her tiny waist in a single perfect, glossy cord, drawing attention to her absurdly unrealistic hourglass figure, which was covered in an impressive assortment of tattoos that were shown off by a rather tiny gym ensemble composed of an athletic bra and shorts, she was easily a ten. She could have been a model, truth be told. Other gym patrons that had caught her eye continued to watch her stretch out over the lying leg curl station, but her warm brown gaze was fixated on a certain native of Polynesia with bright blue hair.

She was probably a nice girl.

That didn't stop Itachi from hating her a little for the way she was staring at Kisame like he was a piece of meat, though. At any moment he imagined that Purple Hair would perform her best cheetah impersonation, leaping from the bench where she was doing leg curls that made her butt perk up with every movement. Her eyes hooded when Kisame lifted his arms up for a stretch to the side that made his biceps curl over his deltoids in a way that would have made his compression shorts compress a certain _part_ of him _very_ uncomfortably if he wasn't bristling like an angry jungle cat. She was practically drooling over the leather-covered bench as she watched Kisame finish his final set.

It was childish.

It was petty as all hell.

But Kisame was _his_ antelope.

Itachi briskly strode over to a nearby water fountain, ignoring the curious eyes that looked up at his sudden movement. He unscrewed the top and thrust it under the stream rather impatiently while she carefully brought her legs back down for the end of her set. The hollow sound of the water hitting the bottom of the empty canister did nothing for his nerves as Itachi felt as if he had been thrown into a race against the clock.

Come on, come on...

Thankfully it wasn't too large of a bottle so, by the time Purple Hair was reaching for a nearby sanitizing station, her head turning back to Kisame every now and then to make sure he hadn't moved from his spot, Itachi was fastening the cap back on and crossing the weight room with his chin raised and his eyes flitting over to the girl once just to make sure that she was watching.

"Are you all done?" he asked, fully aware that his voice dripped suspiciously with saccharine honey.

Kisame's brow knitted in confusion, but he grinned anyways when Itachi's hand came up to rest over his sweaty chest, "Yeah, figured I'd run a couple laps around the building before heading in."

"Here," Itachi took his water bottle from his hand to replace it with the one that had just been refilled, "Will you be long?"

" _Nooo_ ," Kisame's curious grin expanded when Itachi pulled him down for a chaste kiss, "You okay, babe?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Purple Hair scowl from under her eyelashes as she wiped down the bench with a wet wipe. Okay, so maybe she wasn't as nice as Itachi was giving her credit for; that meant he was doing everyone a favor.

Kisame started to follow his gaze but was stopped by a gentle hand on his jaw that guided him back into another kiss - this one not exactly chaste even if it wasn't enough to get them kicked out of a church.

"Just wondering," he murmured before taking a step back. Itachi let his hand trail down the front of his body, his index finger following the slightly-uneven dip that lined Kisame's hard six pack.

As he turned on his heel to make his way towards the locker rooms, Itachi allowed himself to make eye contact with Purple Hair. A self-satisfied smirk tugged at his lips when he caught her eyes shooting daggers.

Later, he'd probably feel ashamed of his jealous behavior, especially when it was unneeded. Kisame wasn't a cheater, and made it clear that he was so gay that he pissed rainbows...

But this wasn't about the potential of cheating.

Itachi's insides twisted angrily at the prospect of someone else flirting with Kisame. It was a part of the territory, he noted while inserting the key to his locker. Kisame was, to put it bluntly, incredibly hot; he was the whole trifecta of tall, dark and handsome with the cherry on top being the fact that he had twelve percent body fat that made his pecs and ass bounce when he went jogging...

He bit his lip and ground his forehead into his locker door. What the hell was wrong with him? Six months ago the thought of just _making out_ wouldn't even cross his mind and, now, he was finding it difficult to so much as go an hour without envisioning what it would be like to had him flushed, panting and rocking under him…

Dammit, it was that night in the bathroom. Itachi allowed himself to throw away his inhibitions for a moment of passion, and it was like a dam had burst. It was like he was reliving his days as a teenager when Itachi's hormones were completely out of control and he wanted to jump the bones of every guy on the swim team.

"I had no idea you were the jealous type," a familiar voice growled as he opened up the wooden locker door.

Ah, crud, he had been caught.

Itachi frowned at the drawstring bag that contained a clean set of clothes, "I apologize, I don't know what came over - "

"Don't be," Kisame's voice was low and gruff, and Itachi could feel the warmth emanating off of his body from their close proximity.

A deep breath was the only thing that kept Itachi grounded when he felt those strong arms wrap around his waist.

"That was so fuckin' hot." Kisame's lips took no time in latching onto the cord of muscle in his neck.

Itachi's hands instinctively reached out to plant themselves on the row of lockers to keep him from swaying, "I thought you said you were going on a run..."

"There's a _different_ kinda cardio I'd rather do."

"Wait, Kisame," his lashes fluttered at the sharp sensation of Kisame's teeth biting into the curve of his shoulder, "Someone could come in."

A long stripe was licked up to and behind his ear, "Don't care." He dipped his tongue into his ear.

Itachi's lashes fluttered and he fought in vain to keep his breathing even, "I smell foul - I am _covered_ in sweat..."

In one swift movement, Kisame turned Itachi around in his arms to push him against the lockers, crushing their lips together in a clumsy, hurried kiss.

"Baby, if it was up to me, I'd eat you out every time you came back from your runs," he growled, "You wouldn't need a shower. I'd _lick_ you clean."

"That's -" Itachi's breath caught in his throat at the smart roll of Kisame's hips against his, "Unsanitary."

There was a low chuckle that rumbled in Kisame's chest as he nipped at his lips, "That's half the fun, Itachi. You've got no idea how bad I want your feet on my tongue right now."

This was not something that should be turning Itachi on. He did not _want_ to feel any more arousal at the idea of Kisame bending him over the locker room bench and burying his face between his parted cheeks, which most certainly had to be unpleasantly ripe with sweat. Yet, as thoroughly displeased as he was with the idea, Itachi's spitefully hard cock was straining against the fabric of his compression shorts, of which were becoming painfully tight. Kisame was grinding into the very proof that he was getting off on the thought the longer he imagined it.

A rough nip at his lower lip shut his brain off almost entirely. Itachi returned the kiss with an equal amount of force, and he let Kisame lift him up with those maddeningly impressive arms so that they were eye level and the only thing keeping Itachi from tumbling to the floor was Kisame's hard body pushing him into the lockers. Both of his hands immediately came up to bury themselves into his messy blue locks which were slightly damp from his workout, and Itachi didn't waste with buildup. He pulled, hard, on Kisame's hair, and thrust his tongue into his mouth when he gasped. Both of his knees were tightly gripping Kisame's sides, and he used his ankles for leverage to roll his hips.

Kisame's groan was mostly lost into their kiss - if you could even call it that, Itachi would later mostly think of it as a sloppy exchange of saliva and air - but it was enough for a bolt of arousal to shoot straight down between his legs, where his boyfriend was rolling his hips in a way that was making it more and more difficult to keep quiet. If someone heard them...

"Fuck," Kisame's fingers flexed around Itachi's hips, torn between wanting to grip them hard enough to leave bruises and not wanting to hurt him, "Fuck, oh fuck."

Itachi would have joked about his eloquent way with words if Kisame didn't take that moment to increase the force of his dry thrusts. It changed the angle of _something_ , and Itachi's eyes rolled back when the pressure was shifted from his shaft to the pierced head of his cock.

Shamefully, as he tore their faces away to chase a line of sweat that ran down Kisame's chest with the tip of his tongue, Itachi could almost see where he was coming from about finding dirty, sweaty fucking as sexy. With a bit of rough tugging, he managed to pull Kisame's shirt up so he could push one hand under the damp fabric to slide them up the hard curves and ridges of his chest, relishing in the way he couldn't _quite_ get a hold on his slick skin, and pinched an already hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. When his grip slipped, he pinched tighter and rolled Kisame's nipple, squirming desperately in his hold to roll his own hips for more of that delicious friction.

"Oh my go..." Kisame's own satisfied grunt cut him off mid-sentence, "Fuck, yeah, scratch me, baby."

More than happy to comply, with one hand still savagely tugging his nipple, Itachi used the hand that was gripping his shoulders for support to drag his nails across his back.

Kisame's moan was low and throaty, and Itachi could feel it rumbling against his own chest, "Hard - harder, baby, make it hurt."

Had he been in any other situation, Itachi would have been horrified at the idea of bringing Kisame any harm. But, this was now, and, Itachi released his nipple to wrap an arm around his broad shoulders for leverage. He repositioned his other hand and, with as much strength as he could manage, Itachi raked his nails over Kisame's skin hard enough for him to feel it break beneath his fingertips. There was a sticky wetness on the edges of his nails that would have alarmed him if Kisame didn't arch into him with a groan that could only be described as a show of animalistic lust, and begin grinding their hips together with enough force to make the door Itachi was pressed up against begin to rattle.

Spurred on by his own violently raging hormones and Kisame's ragged panting, interspersed by harsh grunt that only fueled his arousal, Itachi ran his tongue down the side of Kisame's sinewy neck until his lips hovered over the curve of his shoulder, where he brought his teeth down to viciously bite at the skin there.

Kisame's movements went completely off-kilter. Itachi had to cling to him for everything that he was worth just to keep himself stable, his fingers biting into the exposed skin of Kisame's back and shifting every couple of seconds just to feel him twitch, and to hear him snarl in Itachi's ear. It wasn't long before their breaths were both coming hard and fast and Itachi's toes were curling and they both had all their clothes on but it was so damn _good_ -

The very second the final thread to his willpower snapped, the moment Itachi was about to unwrap his legs from Kisame's waist and drop to his knees, Deidara's voice echoed off of the tile walls of the locker room.

Moment ruined, Kisame stopped with their bulges still pressed together in a way that did nothing to ease the pressure behind his cock that had Itachi teetering on the edge. A final gusty sigh preceded Kisame helping Itachi down from the lockers to stand on his own two feet, where he then inhaled deeply through his nose before releasing it in a sigh that could only be described as unadulterated frustration; Kisame looked like he might actually punch his teammates through a wall like he was Bruce Banner.

Itachi, though, had flattened himself against the lockers in a way that completely separated him from his boyfriend's body. His heart was racing, pounding in his head like a hammer, and not in the good way. Every inch of his skin, which had previously felt as if it would be encompassed in flames, felt cold. Freezing.

What was he doing?

What was he _doing?!_

"Hey-hey, lovebirds," Deidara greeted, looking flushed and energized from what was probably a good workout, "We aren't interruptin', are we?"

Kisame made some sort of joke, and Sasori's voice filled the empty space between them in some sort of response, but whatever they said was lost on Itachi, muffled by the blood rushing in his ears for the second time that day.

Keeping his movements smooth and unobtrusive, he turned back to the locker to pluck his bag up and take it with him towards the showers. Itachi needed a shower. He needed to use his washcloth to scrub his skin. He needed to get _clean_ -

Once he shut the door behind him, though, he couldn't bring himself to remove his clothing.

No, not here.

Itachi dropped his phone on the provided stool in the shower stall and immediately started to rifle through its contents. Jeans, socks, underwear - where was his phone?

His throat ran dry and closed up. He needed to talk to Shisui. But Itachi's phone was sitting with his chucks and his wallet in the locker, still. Even if he could somehow make it past the others without attracting attention to himself, he'd probably be on a flight to Sweden for DreamHack; he most likely was already in Europe where he didn't have coverage.

Itachi thought he might throw up, but he wasn't able to so much as get any oxygen through his constricted throat. Itachi abandoned his bag to turn towards the shower faucet. Pale fingers fumbled for a moment over brushed metal before he was finally able to turn the handle, causing a stream of rapidly heating water to drench his hair and shoulders.

What was wrong with him? Itachi should be past this - that was how things worked. The main character in the story has his climatic moment where he works through his fear and then everything is smooth sailing.

So why did he feel like crawling out of his own skin?

"Itachi?"

Itachi looked up from the tiled floor he was kneeling on - at some point he must of collapsed if the dull ache in his knees was any indication. He looked over his shoulder. The door was frosted and tinted in a way where it was impossible to see who was on the other side, but it didn't take much brainwork to put that large silhouette and voice to a name.

"Deidara and Sasori are leaving with Konan and Yahiko," Kisame said through the door, "I told them that we were gonna get lunch after."

Why would he do that..? They didn't have any plans, and fitting four people in Konan's Focus with their gym bags would be cramped...

"Take as long as you need, baby, I'll be in the rest area."

Had he really been in the shower for that long..? Itachi peeled his fingers away from where they were digging into his sides through his shirt; the temperature of the water had long since turned them an angry shade of red.

Movement pulled his attention back to the door where Kisame's mountainous figure was beginning to walk away. No, no, no, no, he wanted him to stay. This wasn't like with Sasuke - Itachi didn't want him to leave him alone like this. When he was alone, he _thought_.

And, right now, letting his mind run wild in the direction it was heading was one of the last things Itachi should be doing.

The voice that called out after him sounded too small and hoarse to belong to him. Itachi wasn't even sure what he said. All he knew was, not three seconds later, the shower door was being shut again and he was being scooped up in big, strong arms. The water started to cool to a more bearable temperature moments later - that must have been Kisame.

Itachi's diaphragm convulsed as if hyperventilating, but his throat wasn't allowing air passage. Instead he just choked and coughed into Kisame's chest, to which his head was being cradled to.

"You're safe, Itachi," he whispered, pushing black bangs away from where they were plastered to Itachi's face, "Everything's going to be alright."

He pressed a hand to his stomach, the other clutching his painfully tight chest. Safety wasn't an issue. Itachi knew no one would hurt him; he knew that the part of his life of people hurting him was over.

"I am revolting," he croaked.

Kisame almost didn't hear him at first, and it took a second for the words to sink in, but, when he finally caught on, he had to fight to keep himself from sound alarmed when he asked, "What? Baby, why would you _think_ that?"

He felt his boyfriend shrink in his arms as if trying to make him so small that he would just disappear, and a part of his heart broke.

"People who have been..." the word seemed to get stuck in Itachi's mouth, and he stared at the wall for a minute before continuing, "They are supposed to be afraid of..."

While he spoke, Kisame thought back to the night he picked Itachi up from The Metro. This wasn't the first time he mentioned feelings of disgust towards himself...

"Kisame, I want to have _sex_ with you." Itachi said it like he was admitting to wanting to murder a family of five.

He stayed silent, choosing to just let him explain himself.

"Earlier, I wanted to pull my shorts down and bend over for you," he continued, voice thick with shame, "I wanted to have filthy, dirty sex in the middle of some pseudo-clean locker room, and the lingering threat of being caught got me so hard, that..." Itachi's self deprecating laugh trembled, breaking off his sentence, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Kisame didn't understand what he could possibly be laughing at, though he could tell from its mirthlessness that Itachi didn't see any humor either.

"Some people live in fear for the rest of their lives. Most spend years in therapy. But, here I am a year later, wanting the _same_ thing that hurt me," Itachi's face blanched even against the flushing from the hot water scalding his skin.

Pure, unalloyed revulsion was the only way Kisame could describe his boyfriend's demeanor. His eyes, which held a glint of quiet mischievousness just half an hour earlier, were wide dark and shadowy and almost sunken in, and his confident body language had been replaced by something feeble and shaken. His lips were parted in a silent grimace. Something really fucking bad must have popped into his increasingly irrational head space, because he was getting that look on his face that people got when they were about to either fall to their knees or throw up, and Itachi was already on the floor.

As much as he wanted to make things better, Kisame felt himself at a loss as to what to do. He had read online that a lot of survivors experienced guilt about the rape itself, but none of the articles said anything about guilt towards sex later… Sex was supposed to be some sort of victory for them, wasn't it?

In the back of Kisame's mind he knew that Itachi already knew that sexual assault and sex weren't the same thing. It didn't stop him from wanting to remind him, though. Would that be patronizing?

He thought back to what Itachi said in the past about his previous sexual encounters. He only ever mentioned Kakashi and his time working on a brothel, but never any boyfriends or encounters that could be construed as enjoyable.

A series of questions popped into his head, but Kisame knew that this wasn't the most ideal location for that kind of discussion. They were still sitting on the shower stall floor, still fully clothed, with water pouring over both of them in a heavy stream, and Itachi looked so full of sickly self-loathing that Kisame wasn't sure if he could go much longer without sending himself into cardiac arrest.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with wanting sex, Itachi," he murmured around a kiss pressed to his temple, "I want it, too." Maybe if he explained that they were both just regular human beings, and that sex was something to be enjoyed and shared...

Itachi's brow furrowed, "But that's normal for you –"

"It's normal for you, too," Kisame quickly interjected, feeling a little guilty for the hard edge his voice carried. He didn't want to sound upset, because he wasn't, but he couldn't stop himself from letting his frustration slip into his words. Frustration with the situation. With himself for not understanding.

The way Itachi cringed, as if he had been physically slapped, hit Kisame square in the chest.

"You're allowing what happened –" he paused to frown at himself.

_Say it_. _You can't help him if you can't even say the **word**._

"You aren't defined by rape," Kisame felt it burn his throat, "Don't try to force yourself into a mold. Don't hold yourself to a different standard than me."

Itachi sniffed. He had no response to that. Despite knowing that Kisame had a point in saying that he was, essentially, continuing to allow this to rule his life and define him as a person, Itachi couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with him – that he was some fucked up maniac that wanted to luxuriate in the same kind of activity that left him battered and bruised in more ways than one.

"We love each other," Kisame's voice had softened, and he brought his lips down to rest over Itachi's ear, "You are not disgusting for wanting to share that with me, baby. Making love is nothing to be ashamed of."

With a resigned sigh, Itachi let himself go limp in his arms, turning his face into Kisame's chest, "I only wish to be rid of this." Of the stress, of the feelings of disgust towards embracing his sexuality, of the anxiety attacks.

"You're getting there, Itachi, you just need more time," he heard Kisame assure him, "I'll be here with you the whole way."

It was a ridiculous assumption for either of them to just think that Kisame would stick around through thick and thin to help Itachi through his troubles - or Itachi's pessimistic brain liked to think so.

It loosened up his chest and eased the nausea that sat in the pit of his gut, though.

Was it dangerous to put this much trust in someone again?

Probably.

But Itachi told himself that he would let himself _enjoy_ , rather than think.

_Trust_ , rather than worry.

So he allowed his face to be guided up as Kisame's lips searched for his.

* * *

Knives were Itachi's favorite thing to find in a kitchen. Knives were and elegant, flashing in a beautiful manner when they caught the overhead light in just the right way as they passed through the surface of what you were cutting.

Quality knives did not make a mess like those that were dull and cheap, where you find yourself essentially crushing your way through. No, the knives Itachi liked were the ones that were meticulously sharpened and glided through the skin of the umeboshi he was cutting into small cubes.

Cubes that would, ironically, be crushed in a few moments by the flat side of another knife.

"Look at you, making a mess like an adult," a familiar voice rang.

Itachi offered a small smile as he reached for another plum, "Good afternoon, Yahiko."

The team analyst rounded the kitchen counter to stand opposite of him at the island with a cheery grin, "Whatcha makin'?"

"Okayu," Itachi turned the halved plum so he could cut down the side, "It's a type of rice porridge -"

Yahiko had reached for one of the four remaining whole pickled fruits, and Itachi had to move with unmatched speed to snatch his wrist from where it was hovering in front of his mouth.

"That is not something I would wish for even an enemy to consume," he explained coolly when Yahiko looked at him like he had sprouted an extra head. Pickled in salt, umeboshi were abhorrently sour and salty on their own; eating one whole was the kind of thing Japanese schoolboys did as dares.

"Then what are you chopping them for?"

Itachi motioned towards the rice that was soaking in water in preparation, "My mother used to make okayu with umeboshi when I was ill. I always felt that it make the dish refreshing, so I am attempting to recreate it."

On cue, Konan chose that moment to enter the kitchen, "Kisame isn't sick again, is he?" she sighed in dismay at the thought. Nursing Kisame back to health from a cold was more difficult than one might think.

Thankfully - well, for their household - Kisame was as fit as a horse, currently out surfing with Juzo and Ameyuri. Itachi shook his his head and scooped up the three chopped plums to carry them over to the soaking rice, only to remember that he needed to drain the water before putting it on the stove, "Sasuke has the flu."

Earlier that morning, the teenager had called for a ride to the doctor. If he didn't already sound like hell, Itachi would have made an offhanded remark about him coming to him for help. As it was, though, he was more concerned about helping him get better.

"That poor thing," Konan crooned, producing a couple cans of cola from the refrigerator, "Has he gone to the doctor?"

"His appointment is in a few hours." Two in the afternoon was the soonest Sasuke could see a general physician without having health insurance.

"Are _you_ okay?"

Itachi's brow formed a scrunch at Konan's question while he carefully poured cloudy rice water into the sink, "I feel fine." Did he look ill?

Her face softened, "You look like my big sister when I broke my leg during soccer practice."

"It is nothing so dramatic," Itachi said matter-of-factly, refilling the pot. When it was to his liking, the water-to-rice ratio being approximately five-to-one, he carried it over to the stove.

"You're still worried, though."

Scooping the umeboshi back up in his cupped palms, Itachi faked a similar smile as the one he greeted Yahiko with, "I just want to see him better."

It wasn't a complete lie - Itachi did want to see Sasuke recover fully from what ailed him. However, it was still a lie of omission. Niggling at the back of his mind was the image of Sasuke bundled up in his sheets in a vain attempt at ridding himself of fever chills, coughing and sneezing and dehydrated from vomiting all morning. What if he develops sepsis, or myocarditis?

Itachi knew that he was merely overreacting, and once he saw Sasuke with nothing more than flushed cheeks and the sniffles he would see that he was fine.

Still, he just wanted to see him. He wanted to be there to help him get back on his feet.

"Don't worry, sweetie," suddenly at his rear, Konan reached up to smooth Itachi's bangs away from his face, "That kid's way too stubborn to let a flu last more than a few days."

Itachi smiled weakly, more for her sake than his, and let the couple leave the kitchen with their drinks.

* * *

To say that Sasuke looked like hell would be an injustice to hell itself.

Sweat had plastered his unwashed hair to his forehead and cheeks in glistening tendrils, and his skin took a sickly greyish hue with the exception being where his cheeks were flushed from his fever, and where his nose was angry and red from being irritated with tissues. It was obvious that Sasuke found himself unable to catch any sleep, too, if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication.

"Oh my god, how long have you been like this?" Itachi asked, alarmed, when he all but literally collapsed into the front seat of Deidara's generously-donated Honda Civic.

An unnaturally pale tongue flitted out to wet Sasuke's cracked and chapped lips, to no avail, "I'onno," he breathed, "Midnight?"

Itachi fought against the coronary that threatened to overtake him; he has been like this for over _twelve hours?_

He held the back of his hand up to Sasuke's forehead, ignoring the way he feebly tried to roll his face away in protest, "How bad is your fever? When did you last take your temperature?"

Sasuke gave him an are-you-serious look.

Itachi frowned. "You haven't even _looked_ at a thermometer." It wasn't a question.

" _Nii-san_ , we're going to be late."

Ignoring his complaints, Itachi drummed his fingers on the center console as he weighed his options. It was obvious that Sasuke was not okay, not with the way his breathing was as labored as it was and with the sheer misery that radiated from his body. If he were in any position to make the call, Itachi would skip the physician and take Sasuke straight to the hospital.

The problem with that, however, was the fact that Itachi was not someone that had the legal authority to admit a minor without his consent - and he knew Sasuke enough to know that he would complain and throw a fit if Itachi drove him to the emergency room instead of the doctor's office.

"What." Sasuke didn't sound so much irritated with the long silence as much as he sounded like he felt as bad as he looked.

Itachi reached out to push his sweaty hair from his face, "Waiting for you to buckle up, is all," he lied.

Sasuke's eyes rolled, but he took the hint and, with slow and languid movements, managed to fasten his seatbelt.

The drive took considerably longer than Itachi would have liked. San Diego wasn't as massive as Los Angeles, but it was still the kind of city that usually too large for someone to get more than three or four errands completed in a single day; thankfully the traffic encountered at around two o'clock was pleasantly set between the lunch and evening rush hours.

The entire time, Itachi struggled to keep his focus on the road with Sasuke sighing and moaning against every bump and pothole that the highway greeted them with. His heart went out to him during their short stint through the construction zone that resulted in the road changing levels and textures for what felt like an entire ten miles, it really did, but they didn't have time for Itachi to pull off onto the side roads for a smoother trip. Instead, he did what he could and guided the car through the smoothest parts of the highway as possible.

It wasn't really saying much. Roads were a mess in this part of town.

It was only through Sasuke's sheer willpower that he managed to not toss his cookies during the car ride to the doctor. He knew that Itachi all but shit a brick when he got a good look at his face - Sasuke knew he looked pretty bad, but that made it really sink in - so he tried to keep his griping to a minimum during the drive. The last thing he wanted to do was make this any worse than it really was.

Still, that pothole they hit back near exit twelve had messed his stomach up real bad.

"Nii-san, can you -"

There was a patch of loose gravel leftover from the construction workers not finishing up their job right, and the Civic's tire hit it at a weird angle that sent the steering wheel askew and made the car jerk to the left. It wasn't a major problem, Itachi was able to straighten the vehicle out within a couple of seconds, but it was a harsh enough movement for Sasuke to have to tightly grip the door handle and take several deep breaths through his nose in an attempt at soothing his gurgling stomach.

Fuck.

Itachi's voice was smooth like silk as he flicked on the turning signal, "I am getting you some water and Dramamine. If you need to throw up sooner, just let me know."

Sasuke wasn't sure what Dramamine was but, if Itachi was suggesting he take it, he figured it would probably be something that would keep him from puking his guts up.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

Even if his voice did not waver, Sasuke could see Itachi's gaze dart over to check on him every sixty seconds like there was some sort of timer in his head. Guilt bloomed in the part of his chest that didn't feel like it had been stuffed with cotton drenched in strawberry preserves.

"Yesterday," he muttered, hating how pathetic he sounded.

Out of the corner of his eye Sasuke could see Itachi's eyes tighten at the corners, "Do you think you can manage to keep something small down?"

Truth be told Sasuke didn't feel like eating, or even thinking about food, but he found himself nodding weakly anyways. By this point he was willing to do anything to make himself feel better, and he was educated well enough to know that his body wouldn't be able to heal jack shit if he wasn't giving it anything to use.

If only the car would stop _bouncing_...

By the grace of the god they were able to pull into a Racetrac just a minute or so later; it was one of those newer ones with the fancy pavilion and doubled as a frozen yogurt joint and Sasuke's entire throat decided to dry up all at once to remind him that he hadn't had anything to drink since about six or seven that morning.

A gentle hand held him in his seat when he started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"What is it that you want?" Itachi's hand slid up to tuck his hair behind his ear, "I will get it for you."

Sasuke didn't even bother with fighting the urge to lean into his touch. The surface of Itachi's skin always seemed to be the perfect temperature of exactly seventy degrees and his fingers currently felt like little slices of heaven against his burning cheeks.

He must have noticed, because Itachi's expression of concern softened and he used both hands to cup Sasuke's jaw in a way that had his fingers resting over his pulse and lymph nodes.

_Oh_... That felt good.

"I will be back in a moment," he heard Itachi promise before that wonderful sensation of coolness seeping into his skin disappeared all too soon.

Sasuke didn't have the energy to complain.

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he was pretty sure that only a couple of second passed before those cool fingers were brushing along the curve of his face.

"Otouto."

So soft...

"Otouto," the voice murmured again, this time with a smidgen more insistence.

Reluctantly, Sasuke's eyes blinked open to blearily meet Itachi's gaze, "Mm?"

Something firm and smooth was pressed into his hand. He looked down to see a lightly spotted banana resting in his lap, a one-liter of Zephyrhills with the safety seal removed sitting in the cup holder.

"We have enough time before your appointment, so take your time," Itachi explained quietly, "Try to eat what you can, and I'll give you some medicine."

Sasuke managed to get through the most of the banana. Something about that final quarter was too daunting for his exhausted self to take - he just didn't really feel like chewing, if he was honest - so he washed it down with some of the provided water.

It wasn't until Sasuke conked out in the waiting room that Itachi realized he had accidentally bought standard Dramamine as opposed to non-drowsy. Falling asleep in the car with the seat back was one thing, but he imagined it was something of a feat to actually manage to get sleep in a cold metal chair.

Fortunately, Itachi knew most of the information that the walk-in's new-patient form required, though he still found himself prodding Sasuke a few times get his social and signature.

"Here," the teenager mumbled, pulling a folded up piece of paper from his pocket.

Unfolding the paper, Itachi's brow furrowed. It was a poorly scanned legal document that was printed askew with the ink smudged in some places so that it was only barely legible.

"Proof of emancipation," Sasuke slurred.

He was emancipated..? It made sense - he would have to have the legal authority of an adult to be able to move house and travel abroad as frequently as a pro player's career demanded - but it never really clicked with Itachi that he had filed to be an adult already.

Did he go through this on his own..?

He clipped the proclamation under the patient form and gently nudged Sasuke off of his shoulder so he could hand the clipboard to a disinterested receptionist that gave the forms a quick once-over before returning to cracking her gum and filing her French-tipped nails.

The physician showed a similar level of interest when he finally got around to seeing Sasuke approximately half an hour after his appointment was supposed to take place. Doctor Griffin asked the most basic questions one could ask, never choosing to ask follow-up questions to get more information out of the bleary teenager. It wasn't until Itachi all but got up from the chair to snatch up the thermometer did he even think to take Sasuke's temperature, which was a mild 100.7.

When the doctor tried to feel his lymph nodes, poor Sasuke looked like he was being strangled.

They ended up leaving once the bored gum-chewing nurse from the front office stuck Sasuke with a needle full of what Itachi prayed was an antiviral drug, because she had to make three attempts to get the needle where it needed to be and it would be a damn shame if she was injecting some sort of placebo.

As he paid the fee for the appointment (Sasuke was much too dead on his feet to handle any sort of currency), Itachi made the mental note to look for a proper practice when he got the chance.

* * *

Six hours later, Sasuke was not improving as quickly as he would have liked.

Or at all.

He wasn't expecting an immediate change, but he was expecting something more than... This.

Sweat soaked the pillow under Sasuke's head, staining the crisp white fabric of the pillowcase a dark grey. He had pulled the duvet and bedsheet up from where they were neatly tucked under the mattress to create a cocoon of warmth around him, though it was clear that it did nothing to shield him from the fever chills that were enough for him to tremble almost violently.

Itachi set the bowl of okayu and small plate of toppings on the top of his dresser to free up his hands before crossing the room.

"Sasuke."

The teenager fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, so Itachi felt it would be best to allow him to sleep away as much of his illness as possible. The only reason he was waking him up now was so Sasuke could get some kind of fluids and food inside of him even if Itachi knew that he would much rather be drifting through unconsciousness.

Sasuke didn't respond until Itachi began to pull back the blankets from where they were bunched up around his chin. With a groan, he wrapped his fingers around the duvet to use his weak grip to pull it back.

"I'm cold," he whined when Itachi continued to uncover him.

"I know, I know," Itachi cooed, "You can go back to sleep soon."

" _Itachiiii!"_

At the disconsolation that rang in Sasuke's voice, Itachi almost considered just tucking him back into bed and leaving him be until morning. He sounded so absolutely pitiful that Itachi felt like a monster just for urging him to wake up in the first place. If he didn't know that this would only let Sasuke's health decline, he would have turned the lights off and left the room.

Instead, Itachi pulled away the duvet hard enough for it to mostly fall to the floor before wriggling one hand between Sasuke's shoulder and the bed so he could help him up into a sitting position.

"Come, Sasuke, it's time for you to take a shower," he explained while slowly helping him untangle his legs from the bed sheet.

As he adjusted to the cool air around him, Sasuke's expression began to lose some of the despair that was etched into his features. His eyes looked a little more alert, and he allowed Itachi to pull him into a standing position.

"I don't have any clothes…"

"I will get you some."

Sasuke's pout didn't lift, though he didn't argue.

As a child, Itachi always contracted the colds and flus that would sweep through elementary schools like a snot-filled wildfire. It felt like he always took a week off from class in the winter and spring, like clockwork, until Itachi learned to be smart when his classmates started to show signs of illness.

Still, Itachi did not have a godlike immune system. He felt the effects of a fever every now and then, and his mother would always urge him to take a shower when he struggled to break it. Like magic, Itachi remembered how would leave the bathroom feeling refreshed and awake, and just less shitty overall.

He was hoping that this would do the same trick.

"Don't lock the door," Itachi reminded him as he started to close the bathroom door behind him, but Sasuke was already clumsily pulling his t-shirt over his head and clearly wasn't paying any attention to him anymore.

It would have been cute if Itachi wasn't so damn worried.

He swiftly made his way back to his room to begin stripping the bed. As much sweat as Sasuke was producing, Itachi wasn't even remotely surprised to see how completely drenched the sheets were, which clung to the mattress pad wetly. He was so focused on pulling everything apart that he didn't even notice a familiar presence lingering in the doorway.

"Laundry at…" Kisame paused, "Ten p.m.?"

"Sasuke is ill," Itachi tried to not sound exasperated as the words fell from his lips for what felt like the dozenth time that day, "He sweat all over the bed so I am changing the sheets for him while he showers."

By this point in their relationship Kisame was used to Itachi's habit of assuming a sort of caretaker role whenever Sasuke was involved (Kisame walked in on his boyfriend folding Sasuke's underwear when the Sound Four team house's washer was broken last month), so he didn't even look phased to see Itachi tearing his bed apart and shaking a pillow out of its case. He did frown, however, and pushed off of the doorjamb he was leaning on to close the distance between them so he could wrap Itachi up in a bear hug from behind.

"You look frazzled," he noted.

Itachi tried not to sigh, "I only have things to attend to."

Warm, soft lips pressed into the top of his head, "Anything I can help with?"

Kisame felt Itachi sag in his arms a little before muttering something about him needing to relax and take care of himself, first, to which he gave a breathy laugh and held him a little tighter.

"Babe, I've been at the beach all day. I've _been_ relaxing."

"Sasuke is not your responsibility," Itachi murmured.

That made Kisame's frown deepen, "He's not yours, either."

"I need to take care of him."

This wasn't the first time they had a talk about this – Kisame was done trying to figure out why Itachi felt an obligation to look after Sasuke in the ways that he did – but it still bothered him a little to hear the words leave Itachi's mouth. He said it like there were no other options, like he _had_ to be the only one involved. Like there were no other options.

It stung a little. Itachi could trust Kisame to help him through his own personal demons, but he wouldn't let him help with this?

Was Sasuke _that_ special to him?

It was late, and they were both too tired for a long discussion, so Kisame decided that it would be best to drop the subject for now and deal with it later. His arms fell from Itachi's shoulders to rest on his waist, giving a brief squeeze.

"I'm gonna grab a shower in the downstairs bathroom and go to bed, then," Kisame paused long enough to plant a kiss on his neck, just behind Itachi's ear, "Please don't be up too late."

Itachi smiled weakly, but it was clear that he was eager for Kisame to leave him alone to get through his late-night to-do list so he didn't waste any more time in lingering.

The next several minutes were spent with Itachi bundling up the dirty laundry into a semi-neat pile that sat at the foot of the bed, then rushing down to the small closet at the end of the hall that contained towels and bedding. By the time Sasuke returned to the bedroom with a dark red towel wrapped around his hips, Itachi had just finished setting the final pillow to rest atop new, crisp, olive-colored sheets. The top bed sheet was neatly folded back with the black duvet, which Sasuke apparently found amusing as he closed the door behind him.

"Why go through the trouble of making the bed if you know I'm gonna fuck it up in, like, two minutes?"

Itachi was too pleased to hear him speaking in coherent sentences to even bother with getting on his case about swearing. He walked over to his drawer to pull out some underwear and pajamas.

"Half of the experience of nice clean sheets is having them nicely folded," he answered honestly. Itachi loved that feeling of untouched bedding, feeling the covers still tucked tightly beneath the mattress.

Sasuke clearly did not share the sentiment. He gave Itachi a yeah, right look and accepted the small stack of clothing that was handed to him. Itachi heard the soft rustling sound of fabric moving against fabric before the familiar _thmp_ of the damp towel dropping to the floor, and he quickly turned away to grab the food off of the dresser to bring it over to the nightstand, nudging Sasuke's phone to the side to make room.

"I'm afraid that the food has cooled quite a bit, but it should still be warm," he said while picking up the bottle of Motrin, "You should take some more ibuprofen to help with your fever before going back to sleep."

"You didn't make that, did you?" Sasuke sounded more than a bit suspicious.

Itachi sniffed, "If I have managed to ruin okayu, then I promise to relinquish my rights to the kitchen henceforth." It was just boiled rice and chopped up plums; surely his cooking legacy was not so foul that Sasuke would assume he could ruin even this, right?

Dressed and looking much more aware of his surroundings, though clearly still very sick, Sasuke climbed back onto the bed and leaned back against one of the pillows that was propped up against the headboard before reaching for the small plate of toppings, which was just shredded salmon from the night before, scallions and what little nori was left over from the night Sasori made sushi for lunch.

When he eyed the fish like one would look at a feral dog, Itachi rolled his eyes and stated plainly, "Konan grilled the salmon."

It was almost offensive how little people trusted him in regards to properly preparing food. Itachi was not skilled, not by a long shot, but it wasn't as if he was the kind of person that could not figure out how to use a meat thermometer to make sure he wasn't about to send everyone in the house to the hospital with E. coli.

Sasuke took a tentative bite of the rice porridge, then another. His eyes widened in mild surprise.

"This is good," he nearly whispered, seemingly more to himself than to Itachi.

Well if that didn't just inflate his ego a tad.

Itachi bit a smiling lip, "I was hoping you would like it. I tried to recreate what my mother would make me when I was sick."

Sasuke could not remember the last person to do anything for him.

All his life, he bounced from foster home to foster home, from families that did not understand the hassle of raising a child to families that treated orphans like a puppy where once the novelty wore off, they took them back for a refund. Sasuke got into _Shippuden_ because it was a constant in his life; the game was the one thing he had no matter where he went as he lived out of a tattered suitcase.

But he still found himself struggling to find people that cared.

Much of his trouble was his own fault; Sasuke understood this. Sasuke had put up a wall between him and everyone around him, and that wall did a damn good job at keeping people away. It meant that it didn't hurt anymore when he moved from team to team, or when a teammate left.

And then Itachi slipped through the crack in the wall that Sasuke had made for him.

Sasuke always admired him. Always calm and composed. Intelligent. Talented in so many ways. So handsome that he caught the eye of everyone in the room. He could still remember the first interview he ever watched of him.

It was the interview that inspired him to grind his way up the ladder until he was a part of the pro scene, too.

It was the interview that showed Sasuke that he wasn't the only one that felt a crushing loneliness.

Only months later, Itachi was helping him find a suit that fit him properly. He was showing him how to tie a tie. He was showing up to his high school graduation with his best friend, sending him an email with a link to Google Drive where a plethora of pictures he had taken was sitting. He let Sasuke use his bed whenever he was over late. He did his laundry. Without even asking if he needed it, Itachi made food just for him because he was expecting to care for him while he was sick. He was coming over at the drop of a hat, taking him to the doctor and buying him medicine.

He called him _little brother._

Maybe it was because his nerves had been run raw from feeling sore and exhausted and sick for an entire day, but Sasuke felt... _Something_. It felt like his heart had exceeded the limit of how much it could take, and now it was spilling over everywhere. It was overwhelming.

This wasn't the first time he felt it. The first time this overfull feeling hit, it was when he was standing in the middle of the menswear store. The second time was when Shisui told him he booked a lousy flight just to watch him walk across the stage.

But this was the first time it hit this _hard_.

"Sasuke?" Itachi's voice had taken on that same quiet concern from earlier.

He didn't look up from the purple-dotted rice that was resting in his lap. His vision blurred. It took a number of attempts to be able to swallow the mouthful of warm porridge against the growing lump in his throat and, before he could stop himself, he sniffed as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Itachi's hands, soft and cool, were on him just seconds later. The one not cupping his jaw was being held to his forehead. "What is it? Do you need to be taken to the emergency room?"

Sasuke shook his head slowly. He let the bowl and plate be removed from his lap when Itachi seated himself on the edge of the bed, where it dipped beneath his weight.

"Tell me what is wrong, otouto," he whispered, "Are you feeling that unwell?"

"Thank you."

It was so soft that Itachi almost missed it.

"Thank you," Sasuke repeated. The words were ground out through clenched teeth, and his hands balled up into tight fists around the hem of the nightshirt he was wearing, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank…" A sob caught in his throat, and Sasuke trailed off, eyes screwed shut.

Itachi pulled the teenager into his arms. His arms circled his slim shoulders, pulling him close, and his cheek came to rest against the top of his head.

"I know, otouto."

Tears, warm and wet, soaked into the fabric of his t-shirt as Sasuke fought against the overpowering urge to just break down and shatter into a million pieces in Itachi's arms. He didn't want to go back to his team house, back to Orochimaru. He wanted to stay here with Itachi, where he was appreciated and taken care of and spoiled and…

His fingers released his t-shirt so they could clutch – _cling_ – to Itachi's body.

Loved.

Sasuke felt truly, honestly, _loved_ for the first time in his life

For the first time in Itachi's life, he felt _needed_.

* * *

_"Our Shippuden roster has been rapidly improving over the course of the past several months, rapidly climbing tournament standings after a rough winter season. However, as with all teams, there is always room for improvement. With this in mind, we say goodbye to Curse after three long years._

_Curse joined the roster in February of 2013 and has proven himself as a stellar DPS melee player. He helped the team become number one in the world for two years in a row by making solid plays and taking a creative approach to his role. To say we, as an organization, are grateful to what he has brought to the team would be an understatement._

_However, it is time that we release Curse from his contract with Akatsuki eSports, effective immediately._

_While we were disappointed in hearing reports from other teammates of harassment in the past, we thought that we could still make it work. However, after instigating a physical altercation with two others in the team house, we can no longer continue to act as if fines and suspensions are enough discipline to convince Curse to change his ways. Due to these circumstances, we have decided that Curse is no longer the right fit for Akatsuki eSports and we will be using this opening as an opportunity to seek another player that will better compliment our Shippuden team. We have already started the search for a fourth player and will quickly narrow down our options. In the meantime, Swiftfoot will be acting as a substitute for DreamHack Stockholm and other upcoming events._

_Thank you for all of your support._

_-Nagato "Six" Uzumaki"_

Kisame made a face at his phone, which had begun to blow up with notifications now that Akatsuki's press release was posted to the web, "This is a really long way to say 'Hey Curse was an asshole so he's been kicked. We're not accepting outside applications.'"

With a shrug, Itachi leaned over his suitcase to unzip the top, "You know how long-winded Nagato's posts can be when he feels like something must be said."

"Of course, Hidan's been bitching all day on Twitter and Reddit with his fanboys."

Itachi flung his suitcase open and started digging around for a clean pair of pants. To be quite honest, he wasn't surprised. Hidan had a terrible reputation for losing his cool when things didn't go his way - he was glad he wasn't around for when Nagato and Konan broke the news to him - and his fanbase was composed of what could only be described as the internet's cancer; they were a terrible bunch.

"Are you gonna take a shower?" Kisame abandoned his phone to sneak a peek at his boyfriend's butt while he was still bent over, "It's not even two."

After eighteen hours of flights and layovers, Itachi felt drained and stale and hungry and everything else in between. In short, he felt like the airport; he needed a shower to scrub away the feeling of gross that was layered onto his skin.

"I am showering and taking a nap before Nagato subjects me to an evening of industry parties," he muttered in a tone that came off a little cooler than he intended.

Thankfully Kisame understood the feeling of jetlag that they were all experiencing and didn't take his chilly demeanor to heart. Instead, he sat down on the bed and offered a placating smile when Itachi turned around with a fresh set of clothing in his hands.

"What time do you want to wake up so I can set an alarm?"

Itachi frowned, "You don't have to do that."

Shrugging, Kisame reached out to invite him into an embrace, "I'm kinda tired, too."

Without enough energy to protest Itachi let himself be gathered into his boyfriend's arms with a sigh. He took his glasses off so he could bury his forehead into the hollow of Kisame's shoulder, chucking them somewhere he would worry about later.

"Does four sound good?"

Itachi nodded wordlessly. He didn't really care, so long as he got some sleep. Though he wasn't sure if he would even make it to the bathroom with the way Kisame was cradling him to his chest the way he was. It was probably nothing to him but, to Itachi, all of that strength and warmth wrapped around him, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Kisame's chest with his even breathing, Itachi was feeling himself beginning to fall asleep even as he stood on his two feet.

With each passing moment Kisame could feel Itachi sag more and more into his hold, like he was going to pass out with his clothes still hanging in his hands.

"Here, come lay down," he whispered, reaching down with one hand to take his jeans and t-shirt to toss them one-handed onto the hotel room's desk chair.

"I need a shower..."

Kisame kissed his cheek, "You can shower when you wake up."

A knowing grin tugged at Kisame's lips while he waited for a response. He could practically hear the gears in Itachi's brain turning to form a response about how it would be better to get something like a shower out of the way while he was still on his feet; something about how an object in motion. He would be all responsible and junk, whereas Kisame would pass out on the bed like a lazy ass.

The hand Kisame didn't have supporting Itachi's waist smoothed up his back to rest between his shoulder blades. He used his thumb to rub slow, soothing circles into the tight muscle there. It was playing dirty to get what he wanted but Kisame figured that Itachi didn't _really_ mind, if the way he sighed contently into his neck was any sign.

Itachi scrunched his nose as his sleepy brain tried to formulate some sort of protest. He really just wanted to get the shower out of the way so he could feel nice and clean and refreshed from the jetlag and the plane's recycled oxygen that clung to his hair and skin... Still, waking up from a nap usually left him feeling even groggier and grumpier than before, so the shower might actually do him some good he if put it off for a couple more hours.

And Kisame's hand was doing such wonderful things to his tense back...

Every movement as slow and smooth as molasses, Itachi practically melted out of Kisame's hold to crawl onto the bed. As soon as the decision to lie down was made he felt all of his muscles turn into pudding, so it was a good thing he had Kisame help him climb onto the high bed. Exhaustion settled into every part of his body; his fingers fumbled uselessly over the front button of his skinny jeans.

Rough calluses scratched lightly at his knuckles when Kisame's hand covered his. "You need help?" he asked softly.

A moment passed where Itachi considered his offer. After two near-panic attacks during their first try at what was a deliberate touch exercise Itachi had read about, and another at the gym three days prior, he wasn't quite sure if he would be up to trying again. He was too tired for that kind of stress.

Then again, they weren't getting _naked_. Kisame was only offering because he knew that Itachi hated sleeping with pants on - especially pants as restrictive as skin-tight denim - and they both knew that it would stop at that.

Would being alone on a bed offset that, though?

Itachi frowned inwardly. He told himself he would stop over thinking everything, so why was he making such a big deal about this?

Just as Kisame was about to withdraw his hand and tell him not to worry about it, that it was just an offer to help him sleep better, he felt Itachi's hand slip out from under his so that it was his fingertips that brushed over the waistband of his jeans. There was a quiet resolve in Itachi's eyes when he lifted his gaze to meet his, so Kisame didn't bother to ask if he was sure that he was okay with this; there was no need for either of them to make this any bigger of an issue than it actually was.

Itachi's hands came down to cover his wrists while he popped open the top button. The tips of his fingers caressed his skin, sometimes pausing to trace the outlines of his thick veins or to play with the soft hairs that lay invisible against his dark skin. Kisame could see his stomach tense when he started to pull the jeans down over his hips, so he figured that the gesture was more to settle himself than anything else.

Not like he was complaining. Itachi's hands, like the rest of him, were soft and smooth, like silk. He loved feeling Itachi's skin on his.

Shades of mauve and pink and white greeted Kisame when the denim passed over his thighs. Something cold and painful and sudden lanced through his chest at the sight with enough force to cause him to completely still.

He didn't blame Itachi for this, for marring his own skin like this, but he still didn't understand. He didn't understand how someone could literally tear themselves open and feel some sort of comfort from it.

Even worse, how could someone possibly push him that far on _purpose_?

Kisame wasn't sure what to feel. He felt angry that someone could hurt him - hurt someone as talented and intelligent and caring as Itachi. He felt useless for not being able to protect him then, as absurd as that may be. He felt a surge of protectiveness to take care of and shield Itachi from anything that could ever hurt him again.

Over everything, though, was the overwhelming need to bring his lips to that beautifully scarred flesh as if he could kiss and lick and caress away every one of the reminders of what that bastard had put Itachi through.

One of Itachi's hands slid away to drop onto the covers, effectively snapping Kisame out of his darkening thoughts. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw that he had fallen asleep during his silent bout.

Kisame carefully peeled his jeans away with slow movements as to not jostle Itachi awake. The poor thing really did look exhausted - the stress lines under his eyes were more prominent than usual, made only worse by the purplish hue that stained his skin like two dark bruises. They had been seated in different rows during the connecting flight from New York so Kisame didn't get a good look at him, but he had been under the impression that Itachi had gotten at least some sleep like the rest of them.

Looking at him now, though, he must have been awake for the entire flight.

Was he still worried about Sasuke being sick? Even if he was on the tail end of his flu, Itachi had been so out of his mind with worry about leaving the kid alone for five days that he _almost_ managed to convince Konan to allow him to hang back in the States to take care of him. If Yahiko didn't pipe up and offer his services, since he would be alone with nothing else to do other than to watch their games and take notes, Itachi probably would have actually gotten his way.

As it was, though, Konan was able to assure him that, if anything went wrong, both she and Nagato had cellphone coverage in Stockholm so Itachi would be the first to know about it. Well, it wasn't really _assuring_ , because her wording didn't relax Itachi in the slightest. He spent the rest of the day packing and mulling over every horrible thing that could happen to Sasuke while he was gone.

Once the jeans were folded into a near square - which was somewhat ironic given that the clean clothes had been haphazardly slung over the edge of the bed, or over the arm of the desk chair - Kisame scooted off of the bed so he could set them on the floor next to Itachi's suitcase. After a thought he decided to shimmy off his own jeans before adjusting the room's A/C so it wasn't set to fucking sub-arctic anymore.

A light floaty feeling bubbled up in his chest when Itachi reached out for him as he climbed back onto the bed. Still fast asleep, he snuggled closer towards the center of the bed where Kisame was settling into the pillows and setting an alarm on his phone to wake them both up in time to get showers before it was time to meet the group for dinner.

"Love you so fucking much," he breathed happily into Itachi's hair, pulling him into a bear hug. Itachi's only response was to sigh and nuzzle his chin.

Man, he was _whipped_.

* * *

The first thing Konan noticed when she opened the heavy hotel room door was the considerable change in temperature. Every time Kisame was given access to the thermostat he decided to remind everyone that he grew up as close to the equator as one could live without actually living in Ecuador. It was why Nagato had to install a clear plastic box that locked around the air conditioning unit; otherwise the house would be sent into an all-out war over setting the temperature that would shoot their electric bill through the roof.

"Are you two -" Konan froze mid-step as the door shut behind her with a heavy _thunk_.

Itachi was stretched out in the middle of the bed on his back, his hair pulled out of its tie and strewn off to the side to cover the pristine white pillows in thick black tendrils. In his arms was Kisame, whose head was pillowed on his chest with his arms and legs wrapped around Itachi's slender body.

They were both fast asleep; Kisame was snoring softly.

Konan shook her head in mild disbelief at the scene. She couldn't imagine how one could sleep when they practically had three hundred pounds on top of them, but she didn't bother with trying to wake them up.

Part of Susanoo's contract agreement was that he had a room to himself for personal reasons - reasons she didn't get into. Yet, a couple of months ago, he began to share with Kisame; same bed, even, to cut down costs for the organization.

Her eyes dropped to his bare leg. It was covered in scars of varying shades, telling a dark and macabre story that she never asked about. One of Kisame's hands was wrapped around that thigh, as if protecting it.

Protecting _Itachi_.

The coach smiled warmly and turned back towards the door. Konan would round up the rest of the team and head out to the Polaris party while they slept.

They both deserved some rest.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am and I literally just finished this. Too sleepy for proofreading. If there are typos, ma bad.

"Okay, C4? I need you to stand over the X."

Deidara yawned into a pale wrist as he broke away from the group towards the spot marked by two strips of duct tape. He shrugged off his team hoodie, chucking it somewhere onto the floor, and immediately shivered from the sudden rush of frigid air. Despite it being approximately sixty degrees outside, the locals felt it was too warm to go without air conditioning in the stadium; the result left most of the non-European players huddling together and tightening their sweaters around their bodies.

Itachi was not one of these people, so he calmly walked over to the discarded hoodie to pick it up from where it lay on the floor, dusting it off.

"Babe, how are you not fucking _freezing_?"

He folded the garment in half and draped it over his elbow before turning his cool gaze over to a rather unhappy Islander, "I am from Ohio, Kisame. This is our spring." Cool, crisp air, scented by pine and oak... Ohio when emerging from a biting winter was what Itachi used to _live_ for.

It seemed that Kisame did not share his sentiments, because his only response was to grimace and tighten his already tightly-folded arms over his chest.

With a quiet smile, Itachi picked his coffee up from the cluster of to-go cups that cluttered the table that would later hold the trophy, and took a long swig of the bittersweet liquid. Feeling the coffee warm his insides in a way that reached his toes, he wondered why Kisame was so against drinking it; coffee was love, coffee was life.

“Are you nervous?” Konan asked, breaking his caffeine-related thought process.

Itachi shook his head, allowing himself to be pulled into Kisame’s embrace; he had long since gotten used to being grabbed at by his boyfriend.

“Last event, you were positive that we were gonna tank,” Kisame noted, though his face was so buried in Itachi’s shoulder that most of his words were a near-incoherent mess.

He shrugged, “Things change.”

DreamHack Austin was pitting them against high-tier teams that had been training together for months, whereas they had only weeks to find a comfortable synergy – and they _had_ tanked on the first day of the event, only barely scraping their way out of group stages thanks to a wildcard team playing worse than them. This time, they all knew how each other played and they knew how to make up for each others’ weaknesses, and Itachi was in a better head space that allowed him to play to his potential.

So much had changed in these last few months…

“Alright, guys, clear the podium,” a disembodied voice called from down the hall. Itachi watched the other teams scramble to find their labeled cups from the other identical cups in time for a college-age kid wearing a staff shirt to round the corner, carrying a silver cup-shaped trophy in both hands. When he caught Itachi’s eye after setting the trophy on the decorated table, he flashed a knowing grin and pushed his rimless glasses up the bridge of his nose, but said nothing else before disappearing backstage.

Weird.

“Now that, that’s here, can I get the rest of you to form a sort of semi-circle around the trophy?” the cinematographer asked, waving for the rest of the Akatsuki team to step forward. She motioned for the rest to back away, “You guys go backstage. We’ll call you out one at a time.”

Ugh. He understood that, for a spectator, half of esports was creating entertainment that was full of storylines and high production values, but Itachi would be lying if he said that this didn't make him feel ridiculous. Giving the camera a confident smirk as the lighting shifted, maintaining a haughty stance while another camera on a mounted arm panned around them... Itachi didn't enjoy being put on display as it was, and this practically was putting him on a pedestal.

It was a routine he was beginning to tire of, to be perfectly honest.

Fog created from dry ice poured from two machines positioned on either side of them, enshrouding the team in a translucent cloud that was only intensified by the colored lights that swiveled on their mounts to provide an ominous atmosphere. The camera silently floated through the fog in a smooth crescent shape before coming to a halt, and the operator took a moment to review the footage.

Two takes later, he was backstage with his teammates trying to figure out where his cup of coffee had gone.

"Aw, hey, Sushi!"

Itachi almost gave himself whiplash when he looked up from the collection of to-go cups; his ponytail flipped over his shoulder and smacked his chin.

A familiar mop of black curls bounced when Shisui chest-bumped Kisame, staggering back a couple of steps because Kisame didn't know his own strength. His smile stretched across his whole face, dimples as deep as a ravine, and his dark eyes nearly glittered with excitement.

"Hey, fishface! How ya been -?" Shisui caught Itachi's eye and _beamed_.

"Shisui!" Itachi promptly abandoned the coffee table to race towards his best friend. A million weights seemed to lift from his chest when he wrapped himself around Shisui's body, who lifted him up off of the floor with a delighted grunt.

"Missed you so fuckin' much," he declared once Itachi was set back onto his own two feet, "How have you been? Shit, you look good, man!"

Itachi couldn't keep himself from smiling ear-to-ear as he smoothed out the Hidden Mist jacket over Shisui's broad shoulders, "I promise you I am just as well as I was when we spoke last week," he assured him, pinching the end of a curl that swept over the nape of his neck, "Are you growing out your hair?"

Shisui made a face and reached back to rub at the shaggy locks, "Nah, I've just been too busy with work to bother gettin' a haircut."

Behind him, Itachi caught a glimpse of Haku greeting Kisame with an embrace, Zabuza in tow, "So have you two been grouped together?"

"Nah, this year's got, like, sixty Melee entrants so Haku's in Group D with a guy from Mangekyou and some orgless no-names." Shisui smirked, "Not like he minds - he likes D."

Itachi rolled his eyes, to which his friend laughed obnoxiously loud.

"I'm serious, they're _so_ loud _all_ the time -"

"Shisui, please spare me the details of your friend's fornicating," Itachi sighed.

Shisui pouted, but relented, "Is Sasuke doin' alright?"

At the reminder, the euphoria that previously made his body feel all fuzzy and buzzy faded to a small glimmer, and Itachi fought to keep his face from falling as he answered with, "He is still ill, yes. Our analyst is keeping an eye on him while I am away."

Try as he might, he couldn't hide anything from Shisui, who dropped the joker act and lowered his voice. "Is it bad? I thought it was just a cold."

"Influenza," Itachi corrected, "Sasuke doesn't seem to handle illness well; he has been struggling to break his fever for almost a week, now. Yahiko promised to keep us informed if anything about his condition changes."

"Have you heard anything?"

Itachi shook his head, trying to not look as crestfallen as he felt. Long-distance calls were too expensive for him to make from the hotel room, and Konan's phone was only to be used in emergencies, so he had to make do with the assurance that, at the very least, Sasuke was not getting worse.

Shisui gave him a half-hearted grin and clapped his shoulder, "C'mon, it's not all bad, is it? No news is good news, then."

No news meant that Sasuke was still suffering from a hundred-two-point-three fever but, for the sake of his friend, Itachi nodded and offered a weak reciprocation of his smile.

* * *

"Samehada slides around a corner, swaps out his assault rifle for a knife - Puppeteer doesn't even see him coming - and he goes down!" Genma grabbed a bottle of water from the desk to give Anko the go ahead, whose eyes were locked onto the screen build that was built into their station.

"This puts Akatsuki eSports at just twenty kills as we head into our ninth minute of overtime, with Sand Esports still holding a three-level lead and thirty kills," she shook her head with a wry smile, "Man, I'm used to these kinds of games at Worlds, but this is just insane to see at a Major."

"It really is," Genma agreed, screwing the top back onto the bottle, "I'm gonna be honest and admit that I didn't think they'd be performing this well with Curse gone, but the others have really been making up for Swiftfoot's lack of experience on the main stage. Even if they have fallen behind in farming, Akatsuki has done an awesome job at putting the pressure on Sand -" the screen changed, and he leaned forward onto the desk, "And now it looks like Sand wants to even further the  gap between their teams as they move in to Kage's Pit to take out the Raikage."

Anko frowned thoughtfully, "It's a greedy move, if you ask me. Even if Puppeteer was able to use his buyback, Fan is low on energy and Puppeteer isn't even at the Kage's Pit yet. They will have to rely heavily on Gaara to make the most of this fight, and he's proven himself to be something of a wildcard since making the switch from tank to DPS."

On the LED in front of them, the Raikage roared angrily and flared lightning to his armored arm.

"You're right, they are on shaky legs, and Akatsuki is closing in on them to take advantage of that. The question is: Will they force Sand into a team fight that they cannot win in their condition, making them fall back to safety, or will they try to snipe the Raikage and steal the kill for themselves?" Genma paused long enough to swallow against his sore throat; casting really took a toll on him these days, "Alright, Sand Esports has officially engaged the Raikage. Gaara shields himself from the primary attack, but Fan and Baki take the splash damage as Puppeteer races across the map to join them."

"This is what I don't like about Gaara's playstyle," Anko pointed out, "As well as he can carry his team, it always feels like a one-man-show with him. He couldn't give a shit about his teammates."

"As the Raikage's shields drop to half, Akatsuki makes the curious decision to back off and not over-extend. They leave the pit without so much as an adhesive grenade from Susanoo just to impair their movements..." Genma's eyes narrowed at the screen. Where were they going?

Anko's expression matched his own, and he saw her begin to gnaw on her thumbnail.

Just as she said, the show of Sand Esports v. Raikage was primarily Gaara whaling on the Kage while Fan provided buffs from behind. Raikage completely ignored Baki, who was unable to generate any aggro from the boss while his teammate was dealing as much damage as he was, and Puppeteer's damage output was hardly noticeable by comparison. Words flowed from Genma's mouth as he struggled to keep the hype up, finding it difficult when this was typical gameplay from the team. It was only a  minute later before the Raikage's shields dropped to zero and his health bar started to drain.

"Ladies and gentleman, this will be the fourth Kage that Sand will take this match, with the only one left being the Hokage, launching the team into levels seven and eight for requisitions and providing them with the buff they need to make the push for GG - wait, is Akatsuki _farming_?"

In the bottom lefthand corner a small window popped up where the minimap was to provide C4's point of view.

Both of Anko's hands flew up to cover her mouth, "Oh my god!"

"They're not farming - Akatsuki eSports has made the push into the Sand's base!" Most of Genma's willpower, which admittedly wasn't much, went into keeping himself from losing his shit, "While Sand Esports was focusing on an objective they don't need, Akatsuki took the advantage of their base being left wide open! With defenses having crumbled earlier, there's nothing stopping them! Sand can't do anything - they're too engaged with the Raikage; they'll die if they try to run!"

Brown eyes widened with disbelief as he watched the team plough through the NPCs that guarded the base, "This is unbelievable! Twelve minutes into a round-deciding overtime, with every stat against them, Akatsuki eSports will storm Sand Esports' base and call GG!"

Over the noise of the game, and the voices of the shoutcasters that resonated through the stadium, the crowd began to chant.

_"AKT! AKT! AKT!"_

"In a last-ditch effort, Gaara kills his teammates so they can use buybacks and spawn at their base, but only he and Baki have theirs left!"

"It's not enough! They both spawn too late - the shields are down and both Samehada and C4 bodyblock so Susaoo and Swiftfoot can run to the base's core!"

_"AKT! AKT! AKT!"_

Anko ran her fingers through her hair in a mirror image of Genma, looking just as baffled as he was, "I can't believe it - oh my god - just as C4 is killed, his teammates are already planting the bomb to destroy the core!"

There was a bright yellow flash on the screen just a beat before the in-game camera panned away from the scene for the victory banner to display itself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Akatsuki eSports has done it!" Genma jumped out of his chair and had to clutch his headset to keep it from falling off of his head in his excitement, "They have taken out Sand Esports! After a grueling hundred and ten minute match, they have destroyed the core, and Akatsuki eSports will be taking first North American seed at Worlds!"

* * *

Itachi pulled his noise-cancelling headset off in time to hear Anko shout, "GG, well played," over the noise that streamed in through the earbuds still in his ears. The crowds cheering was so loud that it was a nearly defeaning roar, muting almost everything else around him. Still, Itachi stayed seated in his chair, eyes glued on the screen in front of him. On the victory splash.

_Akatsuki eSports Wins_

Skinny arms wrapped around his shoulders, effectively jostling him out of his daze.

"Come on!" Deidara pulled him away from the computer, "You wanna get our trophy, hn?"

Trophy?

Itachi peeled his eyes away from the monitor and let his teammate drag him over to where the others were waiting with the host.

For some reason, maybe because the game had gone on for so long, he had told himself that there was still one more match after this. Another team to face. Someone to get in their way and prohibit them from going to the world championship in Tokyo.

This was it, though. As Itachi moved on autopilot, guided by the actions of his friends, to take hold of the trophy, he realized that this was it. This was _it_.

They were going to be one of two teams to represent North America at the biggest event in professional gaming, to compete for the lion's share of twenty million dollars.

"Everyone, I give you, the champions of DreamHack Stockholm!" Ino cheered, gesturing grandiosely at the players that all had a hand on the sparkling trophy.

Some dubstep remix blared from the speakers just as more of that dry ice shot up in a row of six plumes from the stage. Orange, yellow and white confetti fluttered through the air in erratic patterns. Flashes from both stage lights and photorgaphers' bulbs made Itachi's vision sparkle.

Dazedly, he turned his face up so he could peer at Kisame, who was nothing but smiles while he helped set the trophy down. To say that he looked elated would be an understatement, but there was no other way to describe Kisame's outward demeanor as he used his freed arms to gather Itachi up into a bear hug that felt as if it might cause his chest cavity to crumple.

Then, the chanting stopped.

It wasn't that the crowd had silenced - oh, no, it was everything but that - but, rather, it changed from chanting to... Singing?

A piece of confetti got trapped between their faces when Kisame slanted his face over Itachi's for a kiss, which elicited a typical _ooooh!_ from those in the crowd not singing, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh with his boyfriend; he was too busy trying to figure out the tune.

Just as he was pulled to the side to allow for a cart to be pushed in the middle of the stage, it clicked.

_"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."_

The lights dimmed so the candles could create a soft warm glow around the elaborately decorated cake. Who's birthday was it? Kisame's was in March, and Konan's wouldn't be for a while...

_"Happy birthday, dear Susanoo..."_

Wait, what?

_"Happy birthday to you!"_

As opposed to leaning forward to blow out the candles, Itachi only blinked wide-eyed at his smiling friends,and the blonde host that was beginning to look uncomfortable with each passing second of awkward silence. Eventually he looked up to Kisame to ask, "It's my birthday?"

A round of laughter bubbled up from the stands.

Kisame's expression curled inwards, "Babe, you really forgot your own birthday?"

"It's June nineth, right?" Konan asked.

"Yes..."

"Then it's your birthay, dumbass!" With a laugh that was nearly lost in the noise of the crowd, Deidara placed a hand in the middle of his back to nudge him forward, "Blow out the damn candles, already!"

"Too late!" As if on cue, Shisui skidded around the group on his against-dress-code heelies to place himself in front of the cart, where he blew out every one of the twenty-four candles in one impressive gust.

Finally, a grin tugged at Itachi's lips, "Jerk."

More laughter from the stands.

* * *

"I can't believe you forgot it was your _birthday_."

For the millionth time that evening, Itachi rolled his eyes, "My getting older was not a priority."

"Still," Kisame stepped forward to loop his arms around his waist, "Didn't you wanna celebrate?"

Itachi frowned, "I have not celebrated my birthday since I was twelve. I do not need to." Birthday celebrations always struck him as odd - it was basically a group of people rejoicing that you haven't yet died; it felt more depressing than fun.

"Really? Since you were twelve?"

"Really."

Kisame turned him around with a frown, "Are you okay, Itachi? You seem kinda out of it." In fact, he's looked like he's been in a weird mood all day.

He felt as much as saw Itachi's shoulders slump, and his eyes were downcast. Was this about Sasuke?

"I just..." he sighed and let his head fall forward so his forehead bumped Kisame's broad chest, "Maybe I am just tired."

There was a lilt to Itachi's voice that told him that he might not be telling the truth, but he knew better than to start pressing. For as awesome as it was for their team to take home a grand prize of two hundred thousand dollars, there was going to be a lot of pressure on them to perform in August at Worlds. They would have to practice even harder now, on top of attending ESL One Orlando next month to try to bump some of the harder competition from the running early on. It would make sense that the stress would be getting to him when his nerves were already run raw from attending to Sasuke's needs.

"At least I can pay off the last of that wretched hospital bill," Itachi murmured conversationally.

Alarmed, Kisame asked, "You're still paying that off?" Wasn't that over a year ago? "How much was it?"

Slender shoulders shrugged beneath his hold, "Truthfully, I do not even remember what the bill was. After the first week, where a doctor insisted that I remain admitted to watch for complications, I was admitted to their psychiatric ward for three additional days of observation..." Itachi sighed, and Kisame could _feel_ the exhaustion radiate off of him, "I did not have much to begin with, and Team Uchiha never paid much in salary, so the interest continued to build."

"How much do you still owe?" He was almost too afraid to hear the answer.

"Twenty-seven thousand," Itachi said it like he was discussing the latest episode of _Jeopardy_.

Kisame's frown deepened, and he pulled back just enough to bring one hand around so he could tilt Itachi's face up to meet his gaze, "Baby, you know you could have asked me to help you, right?"

Black lacquer-like eyes stared coolly up at him, "I can handle myself."

"Itachi -" he paused to arrange his thoughts, instead of just blurting them out, lest he accidentally turn this into a fight, "I know you can take care of yourself, but that kind of debt -"

"I am not in _debt_ ," Itachi insisted.

"Fine, you're not," Kisame relented, "But that's a lot to owe , and if you needed help, I'm a two-time champion sitting on enough money to live off of 'till I'm an old grampa - I can at least help you out with some of it."

His eyes searched Itachi's, praying that he didn't come off as patronizing or condescending. Kisame didn't want him to feel as if he would think any lower of him for shouldering a crippling debt all on his own, but it hurt a little that this was the first he was hearing of it. Was it because Itachi was so accustomed to making payments he couldn't afford that he never thought to mention it, or because it was a source of shame for him?

Itachi's nose formed a funny little scrunch, "Our relationship is hardly at the point where I would feel comfortable requesting that kind of financial assistance."

" _Requesting financial assistance_?" Kisame echoed incredulously, "Itachi, I'm not a fucking _bank_ that's writing up a _loan contract_. I'm you boyfriend that wants to..." he trailed off with a frown, inhaling deeply through his nose to ground himself. This was exactly what Kisame didn't want - him getting angry, Itachi looking ashamed... Fuck.

"You have already helped me more than you could ever possibly know," Itachi whispered.

Kisame thought about protesting, but stopped himself for the second time that night. Little changes here and there, from the way Itachi no longer stiffened when others came near him to the lack of dresser marks in the carpet in front of his bedroom door, told him that, yeah, maybe he helped Itachi get over some of his issues, but Kisame wasn't inside Itachi's head then. He didn't know how deep those demons he spoke of on their first date still ran, and it wasn't up to him to decide that for Itachi.

Instead of trying to argue, he lifted his other hand so that he was cradling Itachi's jaw in his palms, his thumbs rubbing gentle back-and-forth patterns along his tear troughs, which were more prominent now that their long day was finally catching up to him.

"And you don't owe me anything for it," Kisame murmured before pressing his lips to his forehead, "I just wanna be able to keep helping you. With whatever you need."

A thought must have occurred to him, because the corner of Itachi's lips quirked, "Whatever I need?"

"Anything, baby. Anything you want."

Cool fingers dipped under the hem of his jersey to brush along the dip that ran down the center of his abs, "I could use some help showering..."

For all of a split second Kisame blinked in surprise, only for a slow, predatory grin that Itachi was all-too familiar with to spread across his face, "Whatever the birthday boy desires."

With a subdued smile of his own - Kisame loved his smiles, so calm and quiet - Itachi hummed and took both of Kisame's hands in his own with a step to the side towards the bathroom, "That's right, it _is_ my birthday..."

Kisame felt his grin expand, "Mhm, and I still gotta give you a present."

"I like presents," Itachi purred around a kiss. It was a lie - he didn't enjoy presents in the slightest - but he was liking the present that was beginning to poke his hip. It had been a very long week for him, full of acting as a caretaker when he wasn't grinding with his team, and Itachi could very much use the kind of relaxation that Kisame could provide.

A throaty chuckle rumbled in his chest. Slowly, Kisame twisted with him to help guide him towards the bathroom; he tried to not feel too disappointed to feel one of Itachi's hands leave where they were tracing his abs to twist the door handle open.

If it meant Itachi would keep touching him like that, he'd spend every waking moment killing himself at the gym.

An airy, amicable laughter filled the air between them when Itachi lost his balance upon swinging the door open, nearly toppling over and dragging Kisame with him. I was only Kisame's large hands catching his waist, and his hand tightly squeezing the door knob, that saved him from a certain demise, and he felt heat flare in his cheeks as they stumbled over the thick bathmat and against the cool marbel countertop.

"Smooth," Kisame teased into his mouth, his hands already falling to Itachi's hips to slip beneath his jersey. Even teeth nipped harshly at his bottom lip in defiance, and Kisame only chuckled in response.

As if his weight were akin to that of a ragdoll's, Kisame plucked Itachi up off of floor to set him on the counter, taking the liberty of positioning himself between conveniently spread thighs. He made quick work of Itachi's shirt and tossed it wherever the hell it decided to land, neither of them cared. Itachi was too busy pushing Kisame's hoodie off of his shoulders so it dropped to the floor with a muted _thmp_ , and Kisame was too busy latching his mouth to Itachi's newly exposed collar.

A playful growl vibrated against his throat when he dragged blunt fingernails along Kisame's back.

"With as many tattoos as you have," Itachi's own surprised gasp cut him off when Kisame's hands, which were tightly squeezing his hips, yanked him to the edge of the countertop so that their groins were tightly pressed together.

"Hmmm?" Kisame hummed, lips curled into a knowing smirk, "What about my tattoos?"

"I... Don't remember."

Kisame laughed again, and Itachi didn't bother with stopping his own embarrassed chuckle at his inability to keep his wits about him when his boyfriend was sucking on his neck like he was. Instead, he gave in to the lighthearted humor and tugged impatiently on his jersey, "Why are you still wearing this?"

"You want it off?"

Itachi huffed, "I want you _naked_."

A dark eyebrow rose, "That so?"

That earned him a steady glare.

"Well, maybe if you ask nicely..."

Without dignifying that with a response, Itachi suppressed a cheeky grin and pushed him back onto his heels before hopping off of the counter, "I think we're done here."

Kisame's jaw fell through the floor, "What? Babe - baby, c'mon."

Itachi only barely kept his composure at the sudden change in his boyfriend's demeanor. He ignored his protests, freeing his hair from its tie so it could spill around his shoulders like glossy black ink, and reached for a brush.

"Itachi - please - you can't just _leave_ me like this," Kisame whined, "I'm gonna _die_!"

It was so ovious that Kisame was playing up the drama that Itachi couldn't help but snort at that. "I hardly think you will die," he drawled, making a show out of opening the front of his pants in front of the mirror; he didn't miss the way Kisame's eyes, full of a playful faux helplssness, turned murky at the sight.

"Baby, have mercy."

In their reflection, Itachi let a slow, suggestive smirk cross his features.

"Well, maybe if you ask _nicely_..."

Kisame's mouth went slack for maybe a second before he burst into a fit of laughter. He stepped forward to wrap his arms around Itachi's thin, pinning his arms to his side and pulling him tight to his chest. He brought his lips to one of his ears to snag one of his helix piercings with his tongue; it didn't provide much for pleasure, but allowed his hot breath to float over the shell of his ear while the tip of his tongue grazed the soft skin over his cartilage.

Pink dusted Itachi's cheeks at the sensation, and it took him a couple of moments to get his mind about him to realize that the situation had been violently turned against him.

"This isn't asking nicely," he nearly stuttered.

Kisame hummed deliciously against his ear, "Nope."

"You're such a jackass."

Whether or not he intended it to, Kisame's throaty chuckle caused his body to quake in a way that made their hips bounce together. Itachi had to bite back the gasp that jumped up his throat when he felt something hot and hard grind against one side of his ass.

"Now, _that's_ not asking nicely," Kisame tutted.

Itachi almost screamed out of pure, unadulterated frustration. His erection was straining against the fabric of his trunks, begging to be freed from the confining material, and he was finding it more and more maddening to ignore its needs. Willpower waned against the envisionment of them being naked like this, with Kisame's iron-like arms holding him in place while he rutted him like an animal, with Itachi too helpless against the force of his hips to do anything other than watch himself getting fucked in the mirror...

His breathing hitched and, this time, Itachi didn't stop the quiet whimper that passed through his lips when an overwhelming wave of arousal crashed over him.

"Kisame, _please_."

It was obvious that Kisame was just as strung-out as Itachi was, because not even a second passed before his knees came crashing to the tiled floor, his fingers hooking under the waistband of Itachi's jeans. When their eyes locked in the mirror, Itachi could see the same heat in his eyes that he knew must be in his own, and another bolt of excitement made his cock jump in time with it being freed from its denim prison.

Once his jeans were pulled down to his ankles, Itachi all but fell over himself to step out of the pooled fabric and turn around so that he was facing his boyfriend, who was already chucking both the pants and his own jersey into the same corner where Itachi's lay. He subconciously rocked his hips into Kisame's hands when they smoothed up his thighs and over his hips, twitching at the warm, wet feeling of his lips as they pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses into his skin.

Their gazes remained locked even as Kisame's face inched upwards along his inner thigh. One of his palms skirted back down to grasp Itachi's knee, hauling it up, ignoring his gasp of surprise, and hooking it over his tattooed shoulder. The movement gave Kisame more access to his groin, and he inhaled deeply through his nose while his lips sucked at Itachi's pubocapsular ligament, savoring that slightly musky scent of Itachi's sack, which pulsed rhythmically next to his face. The hand not supporting Itachi's waist had snaked around to his rear, where his rough fingers were kneading at that firm, round ass that drove him fucking crazy whenever Itachi wore those tight skinny jeans.

Above him, Itachi looked like he might fall apart at any moment. A hot blush was smeared across his creamy cheeks and his entire face was tight, his brow filled with tension and his pink lips pressed into a thin line. One hand was flexing erratically in his hair, tugging and releasing his spiky blue locks, in anticipation for what would come next, and the other gripped the edge of the countertop tight enough for his knuckles to burn white. could Kisame could tell that he was doing everything he could to cling to what little composure he had left.

Kisame was _very_ eager to see what happened when that final shred of self control snapped.

Briefly, he considered teasing him again until he begged for touch. Just the thought of Itachi trembling before him, gasping and pleading for more, struck him straight in the balls, but the part of Kisame that knew better was telling him that it would be best to wait until they were both more familiar with being in bed together, so he opted to display some compassion for his panting lover by getting a move on.

The second the tip of Kisame's tongue flitted out for a quick get-to-know-you lick, Itachi's breath caught and his fingers tightened into a fist in Kisame's hair.

"Oh - _ohhh_ \- Kisame -" a breathy moan cut him off when Kisame took one of his balls into his mouth, pointing his tongue and tracing indiscernible patterns into the sensitive flesh of his scrotum.

It was almost too much for Kisame, hearing Itachi gasp for air and bite back moans. The hand squeezing his ass fell to his own groin, where he popped the top button of his jeans and whipped his fly open so he could pull his aching cock out from where it had begun to catch painfully on his zipper.

At the same time, Kisame's other hand drifted down from where it had been supporting Itachi's waist, slow enough to give Itachi time to shift more of his weight onto the counter, to wrap his fingers around the shaft of Itachi's leaking erection. Kisame used the pad of his thumb to leisurely torture his tip, rubbing back and forth over the slit and smearing the dripping beads of precome around the engorged head.

Itachi couldn't think. He could hardly breathe.

Dark eyes followed every one of Kisame's movements as the rest of his body felt as if it was going numb by comparison to the intense sensation of having his shaft stroked while a hot, wet mouth sucked and licked at his balls. Itachi had done this to others before, per the job description of working in a whorehouse, but he had never been on the receiving end of it - not like this, not in a way that was more, much more, than an awkward blowjob from an equally inexperienced boyfriend in high school.

This... Itachi had no words. To be fair, though, he was lacking most of his higher cognitive functions, as every scrap of his consciousness had zeroed in on the indecent slurping that came from Kisame's mouth as he popped his lips away from his ball to fervently lap and suck at his sack.

Kisame pulled back just enough to let out a quiet groan of his own. His arm quickened as he stroked himself faster, burying his nose into Itachi's neatly trimmed patch of hair.

"Kisame, please, more," Itachi breathed. It wasn't enough. He'd gone too long without a gentle hand - he was too starved for this kind of physical affection. It was like allowing a person just tiny sips of water after they had spent years stranded in a desert, living off of nothing but rare drops of cactus water.

He hardly registered what Kisame said next before he was being hoisted up; Itachi instinctively crossed his ankles behind his waist and wrapped his arms around thos strong shoulders while bringing their faces together. Their kiss was hard and sloppy and eager, with both of their lower faces being coated in a thin sheen of spit by the time they toppled to the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

"Hang on," Kisame panted before a cool whoosh of air replaced where his body had been. Itachi followed his movements with his eyes, watching him drop to a crouch and dig through his suitcase for something that was retrieved after about a minute of Itachi feeling like he was going to die if Kisame didn't get back on the bed _right that second._

An unpleasant heavy feeling settled in his stomach when he recognized what was being set onto the nightstand, "Lube?"

What was being insinuated must have clicked in Kisame's head, because he looked a touch worried and significantly calmer than before when he gave the bottle a guilty frown, as if feeling bad for coming prepared for something to happen.

“I just don’t wanna hurt you,” he explained, gesturing to the sensitive flesh of Itachi’s deflating penis, which would likely become painfully chafed should Kisame continue stroking him with his callused palm.

Embarrassed, Itachi averted his gaze and moved to cover himself. Of course Kisame wouldn’t try to impose anything – what the hell was wrong with him?

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kisame murmured, positioning himself over Itachi’s prone form, taking hold of the pillow that he was using to protect his modesty, “If you wanna stop, cool, but don’t hide yourself from me, baby.”

“I don’t…” Itachi bit his lip and turned his blushing face away. He didn’t want to stop, but he felt like a moron and that took him completely out of the mood.

Kisame watched his face for another moment, trying to remember what he did to get him going in the locker room last week, when they both were so close to coming that Kisame thought he was going to stroke out on the floor when they were interrupted. For as well as they knew each other out of the bedroom, it still very much felt like guesswork when they were like this.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to his tragus piercing, then exhaled just enough for his breath to ghost over Itachi’s ear. As he expected, Itachi stiffened beneath them; he could hear as much as feel his breath become shallow in silent anticipation.

With a smirk that would be much too roguish for Itachi to be comfortable with, Kisame dragged his tongue along the shell of his ear, nipping gentle at the delicate flesh above the cartilage. Slowly, he guided Itachi down into the pillows, using the tip of his tongue to toy with his helix piercings as he did so; it normally wouldn’t provide much in terms of pleasure but, if the way Itachi’s skin was breaking into goosebumps was any indication, Kisame was getting the idea that his ears were an erogenous zone.

Itachi’s lashes fluttered at the sensation of Kisame’s ministrations. His breath was hot, and wet, and loud in his ear, and his tongue was making obscene noises as it traced the outer curve of the cartilage. In the past he always thought that it was just pretty writing when a book described a sensation as being engulfed in desire but, as he lay there clutching Kisame’s biceps and rocking his hips upwards for a maddeningly brief brush of their erections, that would be exactly what he would use to put words to how he felt in that moment.

His shallow breathing stuttered when Kisame dipped his tongue into his ear as his hand returned to lazily stroking his cock. Itachi’s toes curled and his nails bit into Kisame’s arms as he screwed up his face to keep a frustrated whine from letting loose; he knew that he was just trying to keep things slower for his sake, but Itachi wanted him rough and needy like he was last week…

Not one to lie there and do nothing, Itachi reached down between them to wrap his long fingers around Kisame’s erection. It was meant to distract himself from his own arousal but, once he brushed that velvety shaft, the groan that the gentle contact elicited was low and husky, and it did nothing to lessen the pooling heat in his abdomen.

Kisame had never been so thankful to have someone’s hand on his cock before. He had been trying to pace himself, to give Itachi enough time to adjust to anything he did, but his dick was so hard that it felt like it was going to start bruising and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. As it was, Kisame brought his lips back to seal over Itachi’s, quickening the pace of his hand and listening to the delicious gasps and soft moans that escaped through the gaps of their kiss.

Long fingers snaked into his hair to roughly grab a fistful of it, and Kisame got the message.

With one final kiss, which he groaned around when Itachi’s even teeth snapped at his bottom lip, he trailed his lips down his jaw and neck, making a beeline for that dark, pierced nipple that haunted his fantasies since he saw it through Itachi’s shirt the night he came over for pizza. He circled it with his tongue, pleased to see that it was already tight and pert, before flicking it one end of the barbell that ran through it. Kisame tightened his hand around Itachi’s cock as his teeth nipped the sensitive nub; Itachi keened and arched into his eager mouth. At the same time, his hand came between his legs to start stroking his own length.

It was too much.

Itachi gave up on trying to control his breathing and gasped up at the ceiling as sweat began to bead on his brow, and dampen his hairline. One hand was desperately clawing at the duvet in a vain attempt at keeping himself grounded, the other pulling Kisame’s hair hard enough for it to be painful, as he continued to rock his hips into that large, warm, rough hand. Noises he would be embarrassed about later continued to pour from his lips in a constant stream of eroticism. All he could focus on was the feeling of Kisame’s jaw rolling around the nipple he had clenched between his teeth, careful to not bite down on the bar itself, and the feeling of his weight pressing down on him, and the closed-mouth moans that Kisame made while he jerked his own cock. Every sensation that wore at his nerves began to build with a pressure that grew behind his throbbing erection, and Itachi began to pant and whimper as he felt the critical hardness that prefaced release.

“K-Kisame,” he gasped, “I’m close – oh _god_ –“

Just like that, Kisame’s hand left his erection to cup his cheek, and he rose up from his nipple to run kisses along his jaw. Itachi’s entire body shuddered against the loss of sensation, receding from that denied peak of orgasm. Whines shamelessly tumbled from his lips along with pleads for him to let him come.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured, “Not yet, not yet.” Kisame wanted him to come in his mouth, ass clenched tight around his fingers.

Once Itachi had a couple of moments to catch his breath, moved along by gentle lips that pressed tender kisses to his brow, Kisame started to lower himself back down –

Only to be stopped by a gentle hand on the nape of his neck.

When Kisame looked up from where Itachi’s pulse throbbed subtly against his flat stomach beneath his chin, he was surprised to see a calm, if thoughtful, expression in those endlessly dark eyes.

“Kisame, I want to be inside of you.”

Well if that didn’t make Kisame’s dick jump.

Unfortunately, his brain didn’t quite catch up with his erection. Kisame blinked stupidly up at him, mouth a little slack, “Wha..?”

Itachi’s brow formed a small crinkle, and his lips pursed to the side, like he wanted to clarify or ask some sort of question but was too embarrassed to say anything else. Thankfully it wasn’t long for Kisame’s retarded-as-shit brain to catch up with the situation, and he offered a comforting smile before crawling up the length of Itachi’s body to press a kiss to his lips, which were red and swollen from kissing.

“Alright, baby,” he whispered into his mouth. Kisame pushed his arms under his smooth back to hold him to his chest, then rolled over to pull Itachi on top of him.

Black hair fell over his back and shoulder to form an inky curtain on one side of his body; it provided a sense of intimacy, like the rest of the world was blocked off from them.

Itachi hardly seemed to notice, though, because he started to tuck his hair back behind his ear, brushing away the tendrils that had pooled onto Kisame’s broad chest. For a moment, it looked beautiful, like his tattoos and his hair were connected.

Actually, that was a shitty visual.

“Are you sure?” Itachi asked, hearing his own reservations ringing in his ears.

He watched Kisame’s face as silence fell between them. With their chests pressed together like this he could feel that Kisame’s heart was racing just as fast as Itachi’s was, and there was a nervousness engraved into the tightness around his mouth; it was almost comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one that was feeling anxious about this.

After a couple moments of quietly watching one another, exchanging tender, chaste kisses, Kisame smoothed his hands up Itachi’s back to brush his hair away from his face, fitting it behind his ear.

“Yes.”

Butterflies fluttered up a storm in his belly while he began to inch his way downwards, licking and kissing down the pattern of Kisame’s intricately designed tattoo. Below his lips, Kisame’s chest rose and fell steadily – direct contrast to the way his own was beginning to quicken. It wasn’t long before he had to stop to let his forehead fall to rest over Kisame’s solar plexus.

A hand came up to nestle into Itachi’s hair, “Are _you_ sure?”

Itachi nodded, eyes sliding shut. He did want this – he wanted to do more than just imagine how Kisame would feel around him, rocking beneath him, and now his face looked when he came.

“I am afraid of hurting you,” he whispered. He was _so_ scared of doing something wrong, of hurting Kisame in some horrible, irreparable way – of betraying the trust he was instilling in him, of inflicting the same kind of unforgettable _pain_ that Kakashi had put him through…

“You won’t, Itachi,” Kisame assured him, “I trust you.”

Itachi’s hands slid down to squeeze his hips and pressed another long, slow kiss to his belly. “Just tell me that you want this.” He just needed to hear him actually _say_ it…

Kisame propped himself up, suddenly, and pulled Itachi up by a firm hold on his waist until they were at eye-level. There was a layer of frustration that was veiled by a thin curtain of understanding, though there was not the doubt that Itachi had been expecting. As he searched Kisame’s eyes for any sign to back off, for any indication that he didn’t want this, he found himself feeling overwhelmed by the same unmatched intensity that he had thought he had become accustomed to by now.

 “I’m nervous, yeah, but I _want_ to do this with you,” he murmured, using his finger and thumb to guide Itachi into a kiss, “Make love to me, baby.”

In that moment, Itachi realized that this was what it meant to be truly, unconditionally, loved and trusted; this was what it meant to be treated as a lover, on equal grounds.

Their lips found one another’s again and Itachi felt his internalized fears melt away with each tender move of their mouths, every slow pass of their tongues. There was something infinitely comforting about the way Kisame’s hands cradled his face to his and guided him through the motions, all gentle nudges and soft tugs to find themselves back into the head space that they wanted to be in. Similarly to the way Itachi had done, Kisame’s hands covered his as his jeans and boxers were removed, though this time it was clear that the gesture wasn’t one to settle his nerves.

Rather, Kisame was showing him that, despite being in what was normally considered a submissive position, he was still controlling the situation for him; he wasn’t leaving Itachi to do everything on his own.

Which was why Itachi didn’t mind in the slightest when, once his trousers were pulled away and forgotten at the foot of the bed, a gentle hand on the back of his head led him back up to his hips, where his erection was bouncing ever so subtly over his abdominals in anticipation. He started at the base, fluttering slow, open-mouthed kisses into that delicate skin. Large, dark fingers combed through his hair as he familiarized himself with Kisame’s penis, no longer moving or guiding Itachi along but still letting him know that he was still there with him.

Appreciative sighs began to fill the air as Itachi began to apply his hands, using a varying tightness to gauge how Kisame enjoyed having his erection stroked. He was surprised to learn that he preferred a lighter touch, one that was more than a glancing touch but not quite the kind of pressure that would get you off, and he smiled a little to himself and tucked that bit of information away for later.

Above him, Kisame’s breathing had begun to accelerate in anticipation when Itachi’s tongue came out to lick a long stripe up from base to tip, where he hovered tantalizingly to press more kisses, these ones hard enough for soft sucking noises to float up. His tongue swirled around the engorged head, pausing every now and then to tease the slit or dip under the foreskin that didn’t quite pull back all the way when Kisame got hard, to get it wet enough for Itachi to go down on him.

All the while, Itachi continued to stroke him, rolling his wrist right when he needed to and loosening his grip at the base every so often to give his balls attention. He would not think of the person that taught him this; Itachi would not ruin the moment by remembering how he came to know how to please other men. Instead, he let himself indulge in the sighs and quiet moans that danced over his ears as he parted his lips and took the tip of Kisame’s length into his mouth.

Kisame could not recall a moment where he had ever been handled with such tenderness.

His eyes slid shut as Itachi worked more of his erection into that heavenly mouth of his. Kisame was always the one that dished out the gentle treatment to others, whether through massages or being the big spoon in cuddles. Sure, bottoms serviced him in the past in one way or another, but there was always an underlying rushed neediness to it because they were always just using that as a precursor to fucking. With the way Itachi was moving, however, with those elegant, long piano fingers running up and down the length of his torso and thigh at a leisurely pace, with the way his other hand stroked him just right, with the way Itachi would pause in sucking his cock to place soft kisses around his belly and inner thighs, Kisame felt warm and loved and pampered in a way that made the last of his nervousness bleed away.

Of course Itachi was being gentle with him – _Itachi_ was gentle. He was so caring and beautiful and quiet in everything that he did; Kisame would bet that he didn’t even realize it, himself.

Itachi’s head lowered between his thighs as the hand on his hip slipped down to cup his balls; he wrapped his fingers around his scrotum to encourage his testicles to slide to the bottom of his sack, then tightened his grip just enough for their outlines to be made visible through the delicate skin.

Kisame’s fingers tightened in his hair when Itachi started to use the tip of his tongue to trace an unrecognizable design into his balls with his spit. It was so _good_ , the most sensitive part of his body worked at with such enthusiasm, that he didn’t complain when Itachi’s hand left his dick to reach for the bottle of lube that was still sitting on the nightstand. All Kisame could do was pant, and moan, and spread his legs wider to feel Itachi’s lips wrap around one of his balls and suck lightly, just enough for added pressure while his tongue continued to make Kisame want to make some _really_ embarrassing noises.

His breath caught in his throat when a cool, slick finger circled his entrance, and his anxiety from before settled into the pit of his stomach like a heavy steel ball. It wasn’t that Kisame felt as if Itachi would actually harm him, as if he would do any real damage, but he knew that anal sex, at first, would be uncomfortable and probably a little painful. Combine that with the knowledge of someone _being inside of his body_ , and Kisame was finding himself feeling increasingly vulnerable and as he felt Itachi press in.

Slowly, Itachi eased the first finger inside of his lover until making it to the third knuckle, when he then gave Kisame time to get used to the feeling of having something inside of him. This wasn’t like when they were in the bathroom, when they were both so excited and close to orgasm that Itachi could just insert himself quickly and immediately start thrusting his fingers in search of Kisame’s prostate. They weren’t riding that same high that allowed them to ignore any discomfort, and Itachi was still much too worried about hurting Kisame to risk anything.

With a goodbye kiss to Kisame’s pulsing erection, Itachi pushed himself up so he could sit back on his heels, careful not to jostle the hand still partially buried in his boyfriend’s ass. The position meant that Kisame’s hand fell away from his head to grab the bedspread, a connection he immediately missed, but it allowed Itachi a better view of his face; from this position he could watch Kisame while he began to thrust his finger in and out of his body slowly, seeking out that precious little gland. Itachi paid vigilant attention to any reaction Kisame made – he avoided anything that made his brow furrow in discomfort, and repeated anything that made his face relax. Weight balanced on his other hand, Itachi leaned forward every few seconds to press soothing kisses into his chest.

All but scaring the literal shit out of Itachi, Kisame’s hips suddenly jerked and his breathing deepened, coming to him in large, fast pants. “Ah! _Fuck!_ ”

Every muscle in Itachi’s body seemed to turn to stone as he froze from head to toe, “Did I hurt you?” Please be okay, please don’t be hurt, oh god, please forgive him he didn’t mean to –

Eyes finally opening, Kisame lifted his head up from the pillow to look down where Itachi’s hand was still between his legs, “No…” His voice sounded curious, if not eager.

That didn’t do much for Itachi, though, who was still panicking in silence and desperate for some sort of explanation.

“Can you, uh… Can you do that again?”

Using as much caution as one could manage when their finger was in someone else’s ass, Itachi slowly crooked his finger in what could only be described as a slow-motion version of his earlier come-hither gesture. Kisame’s mouth went slack as his lashes fluttered to a close, and he let out a gusty moan that was almost more of a sigh.

“Oh… Oh my _god_ …”

Itachi repeated the movement, this time with a little more pressure, to watch Kisame let his head fall back with another soft groan. He popped the flip-cap open to drizzle a little more lubricant onto his fingers before bringing his index finger almost completely out of Kisame’s body, then pressing back in with the addition of his middle finger.

Even though his fingers were admittedly slender and not at all similar to his lover’s thick, rough hands, Kisame most definitely noticed the change. As opposed to his face scrunching in discomfort, which is probably what Itachi would have done, however, Itachi watched in fascination as Kisame moved his hips downwards to slide down to the third knuckle. It looked as if Kisame didn’t even realize that he was doing it, too lost the experience as he rocked into Itachi’s hand, sighing and moaning while he fucked himself on Itachi’s fingers.

It was enough to send Itachi’s heart into overdrive as he watched. To him, sex had always felt like something that was done _to_ someone, an act inflicted upon the receiver even if it wasn’t violent, but this…

Itachi had to occupy his free hand by taking hold of Kisame’s cock again, lest he start stroking himself and put himself too close to the edge too early. His eyes never left Kisame’s body as he sped up the motions of his hands, managing to insert a third finger when he was ready for it. Itachi watched him moan shamelessly and swear the air blue when he flattened his palm over his perineum to press his heel into that stiffened flesh. The change meant that Itachi could apply a firmer pressure to Kisame’s prostate while the heel of his palm worked at it from another angle and, as he tightened his fist around his cock, the effect was nearly instantaneous.

Kisame arched away from the mattress and dug his fingers into the side of the mattress that he was gripping. His other hand pulled and clawed at the bed spread. He dropped back into the pillows as what felt like a fire lit up in his hips. What part of him didn’t want to grind against the hand that was ruthlessly fucking him demanded that he thrust upwards into the one tightening around his dick, so Kisame found himself in some strange cocktail of both, writhing and twitching back and forth, desperately seeking more of the pleasure that was beginning to overload his senses.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , baby, oh god,” Kisame prattled, eyes screwed shut, “Oh, fuck, oh _shit_ –“ a moan cut him off when Itachi came back down to lap at the head of his cock. His thighs began to tremble; it was so intense – so fucking _amazing_.

A familiar pressure begin to coil in his loins as the sensations all stacked on top one another, and Kisame knew that he wouldn’t last more than a minute if this kept up –

His brain fought for coherency when he felt Itachi’s round, pink lips wrap around his dick. Protests and warnings struggled to make it past the oh _fuckyeswarmfuckwetgoodsogoodpleasemore_ until Kisame gave up on speaking and opted to dislodge his fist from where it was tightly squeezing the edge of the mattress so he could push Itachi’s shoulder back in a nonverbal attempt at getting him to back off.

As soon as his body reached that peak, Itachi pulled away to blink up at him. Kisame suddenly felt like a total bag of ass for intentionally doing this to Itachi because feeling his body teetering right on the razor-thin edge of orgasm, only to feel that release being taken away, fucking _sucked_.

“D-don’t wanna come yet,” he finally managed after several seconds of catching his breath and letting some of the tension in his abdomen to ebb.

Itachi took the hint, thank god, and let his fingers slip free of Kisame’s body to make room for the rest of him. There was an unmistakable hunger lingering in his gaze, as reigned in as it was, and Kisame subconsciously spread his legs wider at the sight. Shit, he wanted him so fucking _bad_ -

But, then, Itachi looked down and frowned.

“You’re too big,” he muttered in dismay.

Kisame stared at him for a moment. Sure, that was something he heard pretty much every time he fucked someone new, but that wasn’t something he ever expected to be a problem when he was bottoming…

When he looked down, though, he understood. Itachi, still so slender despite the weight he had put on in recent months, looked a little awkward between thighs that seemed to be nearly as big as his torso. Even though most of his weight gain had been muscle, it was obvious that he would struggle with supporting the weight of Kisame’s legs.

“Let me ride you,” Kisame offered.

Itachi’s eyes widened in surprise, though his dick jumped at the thought, “Are you sure?”

But Kisame was already shifting to move towards the center of the bed, dragging pillows here and there so Itachi would be comfortable. It was a small gesture, but it pulled him out of his lustful haze long enough to crawl forward and direct Kisame’s face into a kiss.

“I love you.”

A smile pulled at Kisame’s lips as he leaned in for another kiss, “I love you, too, Itachi,” he murmured against his lips, “I do. I love you so much.”

One more kiss, then two, then Itachi reached for the bottle of lubricant again to flip the cap open; he motioned for Kisame to turn around. Most of the lube from before had already absorbed into his skin while he was being fingered, so Itachi made sure to pour an ample amount of the viscous liquid onto his fingers before pushing them back inside of him.

“Shit, that’s cold,” he gasped, hips twitching a little.

Itachi pressed a kiss to one of his cheeks in a silent apology. For as much as he was working inside of him, there wasn’t much opportunity for him to warm it up to a temperature that was more comfortable.

As soon as Kisame was as prepared as Itachi could get him, they repositioned themselves on the bed so that Itachi was lying on his back, propped up on some pillows, with Kisame climbing over his lap. He squeezed more of the lube onto his twitching erection, enough for it to spill over the sides and run down into the trimmed patch of black hair that sat at the base, and smeared it around with his hand to make sure his entire penis was covered; the added benefit was that it was a little warmer for Kisame.

Running one hand up and down the length of Kisame’s thigh, Itachi used his other hand to help him with lining himself up. A bolt of electricity raced up his spine when the tip of his cock brushed along that tight pucker, and he had to bite his lip to keep from thrusting into it. No, this was Kisame’s first time with being penetrated, he had to lie still and let Kisame set the pace.

“It helps if you tighten up before you take it,” he suggested. When Kisame just raised an eyebrow, he continued with, “Clench as tight as you can and hold it. Right before you feel yourself about to release, that is when you want to take me in.” Itachi never learned the specific science behind it, but he understood that the muscle relaxing would allow Kisame to take his cock without immediately tightening around it and increasing his discomfort.

Itachi stroked his erection while they waited, pulling back the foreskin and rubbing the excess lubricant along the shaft. It really was enormous – he didn’t really understand how Kisame managed to fit his cock inside of anyone, never mind the small “Twinks” he spoke about in passing. A lot of people assumed that bottoms loved big dicks just like hetero women but, truthfully, bigger just meant more painful. Seeing it hang downwards, so heavy when engorged that it couldn’t stand erect, made Itachi grateful that he didn’t have to –

His thoughts came to a stuttering halt when Kisame finally sank down.

Kisame released a long groan. Even with just the tip he already felt so full – his ass burned with the stretch of being filled. Sure, Itachi was only maybe about as wide as his two or three skinny fingers but that was just in diameter, not circumference, and everything felt about a hundred times bigger when it was being pushed into your ass.

Still, Kisame would be a liar if he didn’t admit to himself that he loved it. It was a little painful, but he was already so ready to go that he didn’t waste any time by waiting to adjust; he sank all the way down to the base in one smooth movement and relished in the delicious feeling of being stuffed.

Below him, Itachi was releasing short, gasping whimpers as he tightly gripped both of Kisame’s hips. Oh, _oh_ , it felt so good – Kisame was so tight, and hot, and wet, and _tight_ –

His eyes rolled back a little when he started rocking his hips.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Kisame’s voice sounded almost in awe, “It feels so… Oh –oh , man, oh my fuck…”

Itachi squeezed his hips tighter, “Give yourself time to –“ he moaned when Kisame rolled his hips, grinding down on his cock, and his brain vacated.

“I’m mkay,” Kisame gasped, “Itachi, fuck, you feel so _fuckin’_ good.”

His praise went straight to between Itachi’s legs, who rocked up into him as the tiny thread keeping himself in check snapped, “Kisame…” Itachi’s hand left his hip to take hold of his cock again and stroke it in time with Kisame’s pace.

Kisame lifted himself up a few inches to slide back down, then again. His head fell back with another groan when he experimented with a change in angle, which pushed the head of Itachi’s erection right along his prostate. The burning from being stretched open was replaced with a different kind of heat that compelled him to increase his pace, rising up and dropping down to grind against Itachi’s hips a little harder each time. Kisame tried to remember what made him feel good when other people rode him, so he squeezed Itachi’s cock as he slid up before releasing as he sank back down.

“ _Kisame_ –“ Itachi shuddered when he felt Kisame squeeze him tight, his breath stuttering in his throat, “Oh, _oh_ …”

It was all he could do to keep himself still while Kisame began to really ride him. Itachi wanted to thrust up into him, he wanted to feel the satisfaction of hitting his sweet spot and making him come, but all of that muscle bearing down on his hips like this was leaving him completely breathless and only able to stroke his cock. All he could do was look down between them and watch himself slip in and out of that tight hole…

Another moan tore through his throat when Kisame rolled his hips while still riding him hard and fast, squeezing exactly when he needed to. There was so much pressure wrapped tight around his cock. There was so much strength being put into every swing of his hips. Itachi felt completely powerless beneath him; Kisame may be the one with a cock inside of him but, in that moment, he was definitely _not_ bottoming.

His other hand left Kisame’s hip to slide up over swells of muscle to reach for a dark nipple, taking it between two of his fingers and rolling it. Itachi relished in the way Kisame’s moans got louder as his hips bucked in response and pinched it a little harder just to feel his ass clench around him.

“Oh, fuck, Itachi, baby,” Kisame fell back to prop himself up with his hands, which only gave him more leverage to ride Itachi faster, “Fuck – ohhh, my god – _yes_ –“ he growled when Itachi’s nails raked down his chest, “Just like that – _ah – ohhhhh_ fuck, Itachi, just like that.”

The scene from the gym teased the back of his mind, when Kisame begged him to claw into him while they made out. Itachi remembered the way he completely lost it when he sank his teeth into his skin, hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to draw blood, so he abandoned his cock to drag his nails over his rib cage, leaving angry red streaks in his wake.

The idea of gentle lovemaking completely left his mind when Kisame groaned and started to beg for it harder, fucking himself fast enough on Itachi’s cock for him to know that they’d both probably have bruises later. But that didn’t matter – all Itachi was focused on was the liquid heat that pooled in his gut every time Kisame squeezed him and rocked against him and did, well, anything. It was all so good – Kisame was so unbearably tight and hot and the friction was turning him into a shuddering mess. All Itachi cared about in that moment was how he never wanted this to end.

Kisame hissed at the deliciously sharp feeling of Itachi twisting his nipple harshly. It shot straight to his aching cock, which bounced between his legs against Itachi’s belly, and he pushed himself back upright so he could start stroking himself while he bounced on his dick. He sucked in another breath with Itachi used his nails to pinch into both of his nipples before twisting them in opposite directions, letting go with another rough pull only to tear down the front of his body. Itachi was relentless, and Kisame loved him for it. No one was brave enough to ever really hurt him, yet Itachi, who was previously so worried about hurting him, was clawing at him and squeezing him ruthlessly.

It was so fucking hot that he’d do that for him.

A constant stream of erotic noises filled the air between them as they both began to approach their limits. Kisame swore and cursed and begged for harsher treatment when he wasn’t grunting and moaning and gasping for air like a bitch in heat, and Itachi had given up on words entirely, only capable of whimpering and panting around gusty moans. His eyes did all of the speaking for him as they rolled over Kisame’s body, flitting from his flushed cheeks to his lips to his flexing muscles to where they were connected, drinking in every detail with an almost feral hunger.

A thought occurred to him, and Kisame looked over his shoulder to see if his pants were still bundled up at the edge of the bed, “Baby, d-do you trust me?”

Itachi’s gaze left his cock to meet his, “Y-yes, of – hnng – of course.”

Kisame tilted forward enough to rest his hands over Itachi’s chest, letting loose another hoarse groan when he found an angle that pushed Itachi’s two barbells right over his prostate, where they rubbed into him in a way that made his vision go dark for a second. “Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking god, Itachi, I can feel your piercings,” he groaned, “They’re – fuck – it feel so fucking _good_ , baby.”

Itachi planted his feet on the mattress for leverage so he could shift the angle of his hips, his hands coming down to roughly grab his ass. He gripped hard enough for his nails to bite into the flesh there, then started thrusting upwards into him at a pace that matched just how desperately close he was to coming.

The position put the head of his cock right in front of Kisame’s prostate, though, and it was his turn to gasp and moan and struggle to keep himself from collapsing. He kept himself mostly upright with his weight on one hand while the other fell between his legs to strip himself hard and fast.

“Kisame – I – I’m close,” Itachi panted, feeling the pressure between his legs become nearly unbearable. He pulled Kisame’s cheeks apart, as far as they could go, so he could slip in deeper and bury himself inside of his tight heat, eyes rolling back at just how good it felt.

Kisame’s jaw went slack as he let himself feel overwhelmed. Itachi was moving so fast, fucking him so hard, that the heat in his hips was beginning to coil up behind his cock, and he felt like he was about to burst…

“Right there – fuck – Itachi, right there, don’t stop, d-don’t…” Kisame’s eyes screwed shut, “’M gonna come. G-gonna…”

Itachi couldn’t stop watching Kisame’s face, watching him ride that edge with him, “I’m so close – oh, my god – _Kisame -!_ ”

“Oh fuck – yes, inside me baby. Inside - ohfuck _ohfuckohfuck_ – _Itach_ –“ Every muscle in Kisame’s body tightened as his orgasm crashed into him like a tidal wave of sensation. The heat pooling in his hips spread to every part of his body like a raging inferno. His vision blacked out. He didn’t even care about the sounds he made as his fist desperately jerked at his cock through his release.

Itachi came just seconds after Kisame clenched almost painfully around him. The pressure in his groin cinched tight around the base of his cock before releasing in a black velvet explosion, and all he could do was thrust once more, then twice, then still completely as he was completely encompassed by a sensory overload.

It felt like an eternity before either of them was so much as capable of moving, though neither of them really felt like it beyond Itachi slipping free of Kisame’s body, whose breath was still shaky. When they finally fluttered down from their shared highs and returned to where they were, Kisame’s forehead nestled into the crook of Itachi’s shoulder, brushing lazy kisses along the base of his neck every so often, and Itachi dragged the tips of his fingers up and down his back at a leisurely pace.

A comfortable silence permeated the air around them while they basked in their afterglow with one another. It was quiet enough for Itachi to hear every little movement between them, every breath and shift as their skin, slick with sweat, rubbed together.

Eventually, Kisame pushed himself up just enough to press a trail of tender kisses up the length of Itachi’s neck, following his jaw and outlining his face. When their lips met they sealed together in a slow, unrushed kiss that both of them sighed into as they appreciated the kind of shared intimacy that could only be experienced by allowing themselves to become that vulnerable with one another. It was deep, but chaste, as the tips of their tongues met to run along one another before their lips sealed together again.

“I love you,” Kisame whispered, as if unwilling to break the quiet that enveloped them.

Itachi’s hand slipped over his shoulder to trail down to his chest, which was covered in swollen red streaks, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, “That was amazing.”

A shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “I would not mind doing that again,” he murmured.

Kisame chuckled and they both offered hazy post-orgasm smiles as they laughed quietly together. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

Itachi pretended to think for a moment, “Maybe one more time.”

More laughter floated between them as they gave in to the light, bubbly feeling that spread to their toes and fingertips. Kisame seemed even cuddlier than usual, dragging Itachi with him when he rolled onto his side so he could wrap himself around his body and tuck his face into his neck. He resisted Itachi’s attempts at squirming free, only laughing and raining kisses down on every part of him that he could reach.

“Kisame, I explicitly requested your help with _showering_ ,” Itachi scolded, though he giggled with his boyfriend when he was rolled onto his back – still very much encased by Kisame’s limbs – so Kisame could kiss his face.

Lips pressed against his cheeks, his temples, his nose, his eyes. “I don’t wanna.”

“We are both covered in lubricant, sweat, and –“ Itachi realized in that moment that there was a distinct wetness missing from his belly. He shrugged Kisame’s arm from its pretend iron-like embrace to push himself up so he could get a clear view of himself.

Itachi’s stomach dropped, “Did you not climax?”

“Babe, dry orgasms are really common with guys that’ve got the ‘beetus,” Kisame stated matter-of-factly.

He frowned at his dry skin, which was only dotted with one or two drops, “So you..?”

A gentle hand guided him into a kiss, “I came.” In fact, he came so hard that he almost passed out.

Itachi relaxed in his arms again, letting himself be guided back down into the pillows, “Why did you ask me if I trusted you?”

The flush that was already smeared across Kisame’s cheeks deepened, and he averted his gaze to where his jeans were still draped over the end of the bed. “Uh, I was gonna ask you to hit me with my belt.”

Instead of his hooded eyes widening to the size of baseballs and looking exceedingly uncomfortable, Itachi’s expression remained passive. Pensive, he stared up at Kisame for a moment before asking, “Are you into S and M?”

Because he sounded genuinely curious, rather than accusing, Kisame felt a sense of relief flood through him; he sank into the pillows with a slow shake of his head. “Nah, I’m not into the whole domination, or master-slave thing,” he explained calmly, entwining their fingers together. He experimented a bit with Zabuza when they were a part of Seven Swords, with Haku’s permission obviously, and the idea just didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

Itachi rolled onto his side so that they were facing each other. He brought his free hand up to trace a red line that extended up his thigh with his fingertip, “But you enjoy pain.”

Well, when it was put like that, he sounds like a freak –

“I only want to understand you,” Itachi murmured, trailing that same finger over another mark he had left, this one with a little bit of broken skin.

The genuine curiosity in his voice wiped away the insecurities Kisame had about the issue. He pushed away the memories of previous partners freaking out about it and nodded.

“I’ve got some nerve damage from living with diabetes for so long, so sometimes I can’t get off,” Kisame explained, “Getting hit, or scratched, or bit, gets me hot enough to come.”

Itachi paused long enough for the information to sink in. It wasn’t terribly far off from the usual hair-pulling kink or, at least, that’s what he told himself. “How far do you enjoy it to be taken?”

Kisame brushed a lock of dark hair away from his face to fit it behind Itachi’s ear, the backs of his knuckles brushing over his soft cheek, “You know I would never make you do anything you were uncomfortable with…”

With another one of his quite smiles, Itachi leaned forward enough to give him a chaste kiss. “Kisame, I love you more than I have ever loved any other partner,” he settled back into the pillow, “I would not judge you for something as superficial as a kink.”

“I like being cut,” Kisame couldn’t meet his gaze even as Itachi’s hand continued to rub soothing circles into his hip, “With knives. Not deep, but enough to make me bleed. And I’ve gotten off on being burned with a flat iron. And having my balls hit until I couldn’t take anymore.”

“Alright,” was Itachi’s calm response.

Finally, Kisame’s eyes rose to lock on his, which held a warm understanding glint, “It doesn’t bother you?”

He shook his head, “I am only concerned about doing something that pushes you too far.” Granted, the idea of bringing any harm to Kisame made Itachi’s stomach churn, but what had just happened was still very fresh in his mind; Itachi liked doing things that made Kisame happy. “We can work up to some of the more intense stuff, if that is what you would like,” he added as an afterthought.

Kisame grinned sheepishly and leaned in for a kiss, sliding his arms around Itachi’s waist, “I love you so fuckin’ much, babe.”

Another round of tumbles and rolling around in bed occupied the two for a few minutes, laughter bubbling up between them as they teased one another. Itachi felt so relaxed and serene as he squirmed away from being tickled, giggling and playfully pushing Kisame away when he pretended to hold him down for kisses, that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted his moment to last forever. Itachi wanted to feel like this forever.

He wanted to hold on to this happiness. This feeling of being warm, and loved.

Finally, after much complaining and insisting that they were both in a desperate need for shower that could _not_ wait, Itachi managed to convince Kisame to get off of him so they could both clean themselves off.

Of course, Kisame only gave in to his demands when Itachi agreed that they could shower together.

A knock at the door pulled their attention away from each other.

Itachi looked around Kisame’s body to get a look at the clock. It was ten forty-two at night; who would need them this late when they had to be at the airport for their flight home at five am?

“Go get the shower ready,” Itachi ran a finger down the dip in his abdominals, “I’ll see who it is.”

He grabbed a towel from where they were stacked on the bathroom counter, wrapping it around his waist to protect whoever was at the door from having to get a good look at his genitals. In the background he could hear Kisame start up the shower and close the glass door behind him, so Itachi at least could rest assured that he wouldn’t waltz out in the nude looking for some miscellaneous item.

Itachi swung the heavy door open –

“Nagato?”

Their team manager, who was normally so stoic and seemingly unperturbed, offered no welcoming smile. His face was curved into a deep frown, and his eyes were apologetic, if not pitying, when they met Itachi’s.

“It’s Sasuke,” he explained grimly, “He’s being rushed to the emergency room.”


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I had to work the League of Legends quarter, semi and grand finals, then I had to go to Austin for a 24 hour charity event my company was holding. It was a lot of traveling and working with little time to write recreationally :c I promise that FlameofArcana and I aren't trying to hold a competition to see who can go the longest without updating lol.

There were so many moments in Itachi's life when he had felt despair take hold of him in its icy grip. The suffocating feeling of terror and isolation followed him to Nevada when his family disowned him. Hopelessness encompassed his entire person when he was emotionally manipulated into becoming a prostitute. Agony guided Itachi's every movement when Kakashi acquired a violent monopoly over his life.

Pain was something that had engraved itself into the fiber of Itachi's being.

But, as his eyes fell to Sasuke's sleeping face, he could not recall a moment when he felt as he did; as if his entire world was ending.

A warm tear rolled down his cheek. He did not wipe it away.

Sasuke was dying.

* * *

_16 Hours Earlier_

* * *

The flight back to the States was mostly a blur. Itachi moved mechanically, getting into the shower with Kisame and relaying everything that Nagato had told him – that Sasuke's fever went through the roof and Nagato called an ambulance to take him to the emergency room when he realized that the teenager was completely unresponsive. They cleaned themselves off and slipped into some pajamas before getting into bed, though Itachi couldn't sleep. All he could do was stare at the wall and listen to Kisame snore softly behind his head as he imagined every possible horrible outcome to this situation.

By the time the team got to the airport Itachi was running on nothing more than fumes, the last of which was sucked up by airport security and the post-tournament bustle of non-Stockholm natives returning home. When their flight was canceled due to a storm in England, where their connecting flight was, Nagato wasn't able to book anything closer than two days away and all Itachi remembered was shutting down completely and clutching Konan's phone in his hand for any sort of update from her husband.

Waiting those fifty-three hours had been nothing but torture.

It wasn't until two hours into the non-stop eleven-hour flight that matter won over mind, and Itachi fell asleep with his body slumped against the hard plastic inner casing of the airplane. It was a restless sleep, the kind where you're floating in the limbo that stood between the world of the living and sweet slumber, where you weren't awake enough to think but you were still aware of your surroundings and the muted atmospheric hum of the plane's air conditioning.

A taxi was hailed the instant they stepped out of the automatic doors that led them to the airport's pickup area. Konan and Deidara's cars were parked in the garage, so Kisame was kind enough to take Itachi's suitcase back to the house for him while he parted the group to go straight to Sharp Memorial.

"Yahiko already knows to expect you," Konan had said when the cab rolled up to the sidewalk.

Itachi didn't really care if the president himself was standing there waiting for him in the waiting room; Yahiko wouldn't be allowed any updates regarding Sasuke's condition because he wasn't immediate family so he would be just as in the dark as he was. He remembered thanking her, anyways, before sliding into the back seat that smelled like lemon scented cleaner, cheap leather polish and gas station brand air freshener.

After staying in one for over a week straight, Itachi had acquired a sour taste in his mouth for hospitals. They were cold, hard, and reeked of cleaners that only masked the underlying stench of illness. Goosebumps broke out over his skin when he rushed through the two sets of sliding doors, but he ignored them. His eyes searched for a familiar shock of strawberry blonde hair, and a face full of piercings.

"I don't know what happened," he explained when Itachi strode up to where he was slouching in a plastic chair, "He was fine when I went to bed, but something must'a happened in the middle of the night."

Itachi only half-heard his words. Too many questions and panic-induced accusations flew through his head – why didn't he check on him in the middle of the night? Someone's condition doesn't worsen out of the blue. Yahiko should have taken better care of him, he should have been more diligent in checking him, he should have done more for him.

"The medics got him awake long enough to help them fill out forms," Yahiko continued, as if totally oblivious to Itachi being one nerve away from a complete breakdown, "He gave them your name when they asked if he wanted his information to be shared with anyone. All you gotta do is talk to the lady at the desk."

A word of thanks may have been said before he turned on his heel to cross the waiting room, beelining for the short old woman dressed in pink scrubs that was dwarfed by her large desk. Itachi's own words were muted in his ears as he provided his and Sasuke's names; it only took maybe a minute but the process of proving that he was who he was to ensure the hospital wasn't violating HIPAA or IPPA felt as if it took an entire hour. He needed to calm down, Itachi knew that, but his thoughts were too wrapped up in dread. Something black and oily slithered around his gut when the nurse frowned and sighed, "That poor boy."

That poor boy what? What did that mean? Had he gotten worse since being checked into the emergency room? Did they have to take him to the ICU? Itachi wanted to scream, or cry, or maybe both, as the old lady printed out a form for him to carry with him that had some sort of privacy number typed into a box in bold letters.

"You will need this if you leave and call the hospital for updates," she explained much too calmly for Itachi to handle, "Just give them the number here," the nurse tapped the box, which read S24U97, "And that will verify that you are authorized to Sasuke's medical records. He was just admitted to a room a half hour ago, so I'll page the doctor to meet you there."

Itachi resisted the urge to tap his toes while she wrote Sasuke's room number and the doctor's name with one of those gaudy pink pens that had glittery feathers and tinsel glued to the top like it was a gay flamingo. Knowing that Sasuke was well enough to be admitted to a normal room, rather than being carefully watched in the emergency room, should have settled his nerves, but Itachi needed to see him; he needed to see that Sasuke was better with his own eyes.

His room was on the seventh floor, which the elevator inched upwards towards at a maddeningly slow pace. Itachi almost considered stopping at the fourth level to just take the stairs two at a time, but didn't want to risk getting himself lost looking for the stairwell and wasting any more time.

Sasuke was alone. He was hurting. He was sick. He needed someone to be with him –

"You must be Itachi," a voice cut his thoughts off as he stepped out of the elevator. When Itachi craned his neck to look behind him, he saw a woman in the iconic white lab coat just a few paces away, "Carol said you'd be on your way up. I'm Doctor Tsunade Senju. Are you Sasuke's older brother?"

He took her outstretched hand in his own, shaking his head, "Sasuke is a friend of mine."

Doctor Senju gave him a pensive once-over before gesturing for him to follow, "Well, your timing is good – I just got the last of his test results back and he could use someone with him."

One of Itachi's hands came up to clutch the fabric of Kisame's hoodie, as if he could physically stop his heart from racing. Did that mean that she was delivering bad news? How bad?

"Has he shown any signs of recovering from his flu?" he asked in a voice that did nothing to betray how shaken he felt. It was a probing question, one that was meant to confirm that this was still just a case of influenza with a bad fever.

The doctor's already grim expression darkened as she paused to meet his gaze with her own steady one.

"Itachi… Perhaps I should catch you up to speed before taking you to see him."

They stepped off to the side of the hallway, lowering themselves into two chairs that sat outside of the nurse's station. Doctor Senju lifted up the top page of Sasuke's clipboard to glance at a form – probably to familiarize herself with whatever new information his test brought to light. She sighed, then tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear with manicured fingers before looking back up.

"When Sasuke was admitted to the ICU, he was experiencing advanced symptoms of invasive aspergillosis," the doctor explained, "In short, it means that he has been living with mold in his lungs and it infected his bloodstream. When he was stabilized we ran some tests, just to see how much damage his fever had caused, and, well, it wasn't good."

She took a moment to let her words sink in, probably to give Itachi time to brace himself; he had to carefully focus on his breathing to not make it glaringly obvious that he was all of two seconds away from snatching her clipboard out from her hands just to read everything on his own.

"The infection spread to his heart and kidneys," Doctor Senju continued solemnly, "With the aid of antifungal medications and a procedure called embolization, we were able to stop it from doing too much damage to his heart, but we were fighting a losing battle trying to save his kidneys. Both of Sasuke's kidneys are functioning at less than five percent."

Meaning he wasn't far from total renal shutdown.

"With the damage already done to his heart, it would be dangerous for him to undergo dialysis – especially for the rest of his life, or even the time it would take to locate a matching donor. Additionally, much of the damage to his lungs is irreversible. This will put him at a heightened risk of respiratory failure."

Itachi leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. A hole was beginning to form in his chest, the edges raw and painful as every one of the doctor's words picked at it to make it grow. He knew what was going to come out of her mouth next: That if Sasuke didn't receive a fully functioning kidney, he could very well die, regardless of whether or not he went through the motions of dialysis, which would ruin his quality of life.

Tsunade confirmed his fears just a beat later. There was too much damage to too many major organs.

Itachi's felt his blood run cold. A sorrow so overpowering began to consume him that he could not take a breath.

Sasuke was dying.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. This was Itachi's fault. He should have been more adamant about Sasuke seeing a better doctor – he should have pushed for more tests to be run. He shouldn't have left him at home. Itachi should have checked out the team house Orochimaru had him living in. Why didn't Sasuke say anything about his living situation? Surely he must have been aware of the mold situation in the house if it was bad enough to send him to the hospital…

"Sir, I understand that you must feel overwhelmed by all of this, but Sasuke will need someone to be strong for him." A slender hand smoothed over his back, coming up to squeeze his shoulder firmly, "He has been putting on a brave face, but that boy is _scared_."

Itachi nodded and, after wiping his eyes, sat up. She was right – he was here for Sasuke, and that didn't mean a damn thing if he was going to fall apart like this. Itachi could do that later, in private. For now, he needed to pull himself together and be what Sasuke needed.

What Sasuke needed…

Almost too afraid to indulge the glimmer of hope, Itachi refused to meet the doctor's gaze as he asked, "What if you had a living donor?"

Doctor Senju hesitated for a moment, "Well, once we can confirm that his condition has been treated successfully, we would be able to perform a transplant."

"And that would…?"

"Sasuke would likely live with asthma for the rest of his life, and he would have to take extra steps to ensure his heart remains healthy, but…" the doctor nodded, "Yes, once we eliminated the infection, he would make a full recovery and live a long, happy life."

Itachi finally turned to meet her gaze, "Sasuke and I are the same blood type, AB negative."

Before either of them joined Team Uchiha, a number of esports organizations came together to work with local hospitals for a charity event. Their part was to encourage people to donate blood so, next to the donation center that had been set up, _Shippuden_ players were divided up into teams based off of their blood types; it was how he and Sasuke first met.

There was understanding in the doctor's eyes but, also, doubt. Her slender brows drew inwards, "Sir, donating a kidney is –"

"An arduous process full of testing, and a surgery that comes with its own share of complications," Itachi cut in, "But, Doctor, I cannot sit by and do nothing while he rots away for five years waiting for a donor that may never come."

"I understand, but there is no guarantee that two strangers would be a match, _regardless_ of their blood type," she argued, "I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"You will not even give it a chance?" Itachi's tone was as flabbergasted as he felt.

"I cannot, in good conscience, agree to begin testing you as a possible donor when you are in such an emotional state."

Desperation and helplessness, which had been growing and weighing down on his shoulders even heavier than the weights Kisame made him work out with, finally reached its peak. Itachi was so sick of this – of everything in his life taking a turn for the worst as soon as things were beginning to look up. And things just when things were beginning to look up, as soon as they were planning to get him away from Orochimaru and into the company of those who genuinely cared for him, Sasuke was having the same thing happen to him.

This wasn't right – _this wasn't right!_

And that was when it finally sunk in.

Itachi loved Sasuke more than anything - it was so much more than friendship – he loved him so much, so unconditionally, so irrevocably. He wanted to take care of him, to care for him, and he wanted to be everything Sasuke deserved. A permanent home, and a family, and a higher education, and warm meals every morning and every evening, and a bed of his own, and everything else he wasn't ever allowed to have because of the cruel treatment this life had inflicted unto him.

In that moment, Itachi vowed to give him the world. He would give Sasuke everything he deserved, and everything he wanted, for the rest of his life. He would give Sasuke the life that Itachi was never allowed to have. All Sasuke had to do was _live_ …

The tears returned, and Itachi's breathing stuttered for just a moment, "All I am asking is for a _chance_ to save him." In so many ways.

The clock overhead ticked away, seemingly loud enough for it to echo through the white hallway, for longer than Itachi could guess at. Doctor Senju stared at him with rapt attention, a number of emotions flitting through those brown irises as she no doubt warred with herself to provide what could quite possibly only be a pipedream.

When Itachi was only seconds away from dropping to his knees and begging shamelessly, she finally sighed and motioned for him to stand up with her.

"Talk it over with Sasuke," she said calmly, "If he agrees to it, I will begin testing immediately."

Itachi did not feel thankful, not yet. Not when, moments later, he was being guided into a dark hospital room where Sasuke was lying in a hospital bed, looking like he was only inches from death.

"Sasuke, you have a visitor," the doctor quietly announced.

Confusion filled the teenager's features when his eyes fell on Itachi. The doctor flipped on a light, and he blinked rapidly to adjust to the change, squinting as if still unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Nii-san..?"

Paying no mind to their audience, Itachi grabbed a chair that wasn't unlike what he was just sitting on with the doctor and dragged it over to Sasuke's bed. He sat down, bringing one hand to Sasuke's forehead and the other down to curl around his clammy fingers.

"Your doctor has filled me in on the details," Itachi explained, "Are you feeling any better?"

The teenager only frowned, something indescribable crossing his face. He did not pull away, though; rather, Sasuke's eyes closed before he leaned into Itachi's palm, a sigh passing through his lips. A part of him seemed to relax, as if relieved. The tension in his brow lessened beneath every pass of Itachi's hand as it brushed back his black hair, which was dirty and a little greasy from being unable to wash it.

Their reunion was short-lived, unfortunately. Doctor Senju's voice broke the silence between them, and she wasted no time in getting down to business – Itachi could not truly fault her; she probably had many other patients to reconvene with.

Sasuke did not react to the same news that she had delivered to Itachi just a few minutes earlier. His gaze remained impassive throughout her monologue, and he did not ask any questions. When the doctor asked if he had any, Sasuke only shook his head.

He looked so _tired_ …

They were told that, in the morning, some more tests and scans would be run to determine when it would be safe to discharge him, under the pretense that Sasuke would undergo outpatient care for both dialysis and the catheter that ran into his lung, and he seemed to take it all in the kind of stride that Itachi felt was familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on.

When Tsunade finally left them alone, silence filled the air between them. Gentle wheezing floated between them. Sasuke's chest rose and fell slowly as his lungs struggled to supply his body with oxygen.

"You came," he rasped.

"Our flight was canceled," Itachi explained apologetically, "I came as quickly as possible."

Sasuke's eyes finally opened to stare up at the perforated ceiling tiles. Itachi's fingers continued to card through his hair, watching him silently.

"It hurts…" he admitted. Sasuke's bottom lip quivered, and he finally squeezed Itachi's hand back, "Nii-san… It – it… It _hurts_ …"

The hole in his chest continued to grow. Oh, Sasuke, you poor, sweet, perfect boy… He was so sorry – he was so sorry for all of this… Itachi would do anything to switch places, to be the one suffering in his place. And he so badly wished that he could do so, even before the first tear slipped from the corner of Sasuke's eye to run into his hairline.

"I'm sorry I was such a shit to you," he managed around shallow breaths, "You didn't deserve it."

"You were just being a teenager."

Sasuke shook his head, "You were so nice to me, and I repaid you by being a brat, and… And, I just," the single tear turned into a steady rivulet, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

Itachi poked his forehead to cut him off. "You have already been forgiven, otouto."

That seemed to open the floodgates, because Sasuke's breaths escaped him in short, quick gasps, as if they were being punched out of him, as sobs bubbled past his lips. Itachi could only imagine how he must have felt while trying to hold himself together for appearances, so no one would pity him or think of him as weak and pathetic. Now, Sasuke was allowed to be scared. He was allowed to be in pain.

Itachi leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. Sasuke rolled onto his side to face him, bringing their joined hands up to clutch Itachi's to his chest as he cried. All Itachi could do was whisper sweet nothings to him, to praise him for being so brave, to remind him that he'd been so strong, that he knew that he was hurting and that Itachi was so proud of him for being able to go through this on his own, that Itachi would take care of him from now on, that he didn't need to worry anymore. He pressed gentle kisses to Sasuke's forehead every so often, still stroking his pretty black hair. Still cooing quietly like a mother would to her child.

It felt like an eternity before Sasuke finally calmed down, having expelled most of his pent-up fear. It was clear in every movement he made that he was still miserable, his body wracked with the pain associated with total renal shutdown, but much of the tension in Sasuke's muscles visibly relaxed. The exhaustion from before seemed even more apparent now, his tear troughs nearly as prominent as Itachi's.

When he quieted completely, Itachi placed a final kiss to his temple before pulling back to meet his teary gaze.

"Sasuke," he murmured, "Will you let me help you?"

Sasuke's voice was hoarse, as if there were two rocks grinding against another in his throat, "What…?"

Itachi kept his expression steady. "I want to give you my kidney."

His reaction was immediate, "No. _No_ , you can't –"

"We can talk in the morning" Itachi whispered, "I only wanted you to know so you would be prepared for that kind of discussion."

"But _why_ ," Sasuke nearly whispered, his tone almost defensive, panicked, as it wavered, "Why the fuck do you care _that_ much?"

"Because I love you, silly otouto," Itachi smiled down at him sadly, "And I want you to have the life you deserve." A life without struggle, and without pain…

Tears filled up those beautiful blue eyes again, and Sasuke pressed his trembling mouth into a tight line.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Not once did Itachi make any attempt to move, even as one of his legs began to fall asleep from sitting in one spot for so long. Hours after Sasuke fell asleep, Itachi continued to stay with him, one of his hands gently rubbing circles into his back. Every now and then he could turn his focus to a knot that presented itself, and Itachi made the mental note to have Kisame show him now to take care of problem spots so he could try to ease the built-up tension in Sasuke's back that likely came from using a bad chair.

He frowned a little when his fingertips passed over a rib. When Sasuke came over he always seemed a little hungry, but Itachi had chalked it up to him just being any normal food-loving teenage boy. Feeling him now, and recalling the slimness of Sasuke's shoulders from when he showed up at the Akatsuki team house during the tropical depression, Itachi had to wonder if he had been eating properly under Orochimaru's supervision.

No, of course he wasn't eating right. If he was, Itachi wouldn't be able to feel his bones protruding so harshly through his hospital gown.

He was too tired to feel angry. He was too emotionally and physically drained to bring himself to actively loathe Orochimaru for allowing him to get like this, so thin and so very, very ill. It would do him no good.

Instead, Itachi spent the rest of the night allowing silent tears to squeeze past his tightly-closed lashes as his internalized fear and desperation began to take over now that he was given a private moment to himself. Itachi prayed to any god that might hear him, begging for any shred of hope that could be spared.

* * *

"Deidara, you are a lifesaver," Itachi took the backpack that had been handed to him, which was full of clean clothes for him to change into during his stay. They wouldn't know how much longer Sasuke would need to stay in the hospital before he was cleared to leave, so Itachi used Sasuke's phone to DM Deidara on Twitter to ask for enough clothes to ensure he wouldn't have to leave anytime soon.

No jokes about having to rifle through his underwear drawer, or digging around in his toy-filled nightstand for his cell phone. Deidara just shrugged and muttered, "No problem."

Itachi's brow knitted, and he turned his gaze to Sasori, who held a protective hand over the small of his best friend's back.

"Some guy shot up a gay nightclub in Orlando," Sasori explained after a handful of seconds that were filled with an awkward silence, sounding as solemn as he looked, "They still don't know how many were killed.

Oh, god…

"It's a lot," Deidara added, leaning into Sasori's shoulder when the hand on his back circled his waist. That was when Itachi noticed that Deidara wasn't wearing any makeup like he normally was, and he hadn't bothered with putting on his chest binder – two things that he never left his bedroom without, never mind the house.

Itachi pressed a hand to his stomach, which felt hollow, "When?" Did this happen while they were still in Sweden? Why was he just now hearing about this?

Sasori's warm brown eyes flitted to Deidara, who looked paler than usual. "Last night."

Back in his bed, Sasuke just stared at his lap. "Holy shit…"

A knock at the door snapped them out of their somber talk, and everyone in the room turned their attention to Doctor Senju, who was holding two clipboards in her slim hands.

"I have some forms that both of you need to fill out for the –"

"Sasori, you should take Deidara home," Itachi suddenly interjected, bringing his gaze back his teammates, "He looks like he could use some rest."

It wasn't too far from the truth – Deidara truly did look like the atmosphere of a hospital was doing him any favors, and it was clear that the news of the shooting had hit him hard. Itachi honestly felt guilty for asking him out here; had he heard the news then he would not have made such a needless request…

Sasori clearly agreed with him. He wasted no time in guiding back towards the hallway.

"Call your boy toy when you get the chance," he said over his shoulder, "He wanted to come, but this whole thing's got him so stressed that his blood sugar's all over the place."

Itachi paid little attention, mumbling something in response. When they were both gone, the doctor was already handing them the clipboards.

"I need your information so we can get you in the system as a patient for the procedure," Tsunade explained, flipping through sheets of paper, "This is a consent form for the tests that will need to be run, and this is another consent form for the transplant itself. This form here," she lifted up five or six slips of paper to point at a form that looked nearly identical to the others, "Is where you're going to tell me _everything_ you can remember about your medical history. If you stubbed your toe when you were nine and your mommy had to put a Band-Aid on it, I want to know. If you have had unprotected sex in the last twelve months, it won't disqualify you, but we will need to run additional screenings for STIs."

Alright, all of that sounded reasonable. He had been so caught up in the situation that Itachi hadn't even considered –

He didn't wear a condom with Kisame.

Something cold and prickly crawled over Itachi's flesh while Tsunade was discussing some scans she wanted to run for Sasuke to determine if the embolization and the intravenous drip had done any good over the last few days to kill the fungal infection. They had covered _his_ sexual history and status, but it never occurred to Itachi that he should know Kisame's, as well.

Why – why had he been so careless? Because Kisame didn't used to be a sex worker? How could he be so _stupid_!? If Kisame had something, something _bad_ , Itachi could have very easily signed Sasuke's death certificate; he might as well just walk out of this room and leave him to die instead of bothering with the surgery.

Heart racing, Itachi squeezed the clipboard between his thighs to free up his hands so he could start digging through the front pocket of his backpack, which had been placed at the foot of Sasuke's bed. When it wasn't in any of the small front pockets, Itachi had to mindfully control his movements as to not tear open the larger pouch to start pulling out wads of socks and rolled up t-shirts to locate his cell phone.

"Itachi."

Sasuke didn't look suspicious of his rifling when Itachi looked up to meet his gaze, but it was obvious that something was genuinely bothering him if the way the tightening around his eyes was any indication. That was when he noticed that Tsunade had left them alone, probably so they had time to fill out their paperwork in peace.

"You don't have to do this," Sasuke said quietly.

As his fingers finally grazed the cool plastic casing of his cell phone, Itachi narrowed his eyes in question.

Sasuke averted his gaze, "I don't want your kidney."

Itachi's heart stopped. "What -?"

"I'm saying you don't need to do anything more for me!" Sasuke's voice, still hoarse, still managed to rise in volume against the strain of his lungs. He had that same defensive tone, where he was trying to project anger to mask his own fears as he continued, "You've done enough! You don't have to _do_ this!"

"Sasuke –"

"I've been fine on my own, so you don't have to keep pretending like you gotta take care of me! I'm not your responsibility!"

Itachi had no words. He didn't know where this was coming from, or how to respond.

"I never asked you to get involved in my shit! You just strolled the fuck up and suddenly started acting like you've got some sort of fucking obligation to take care of me – who the fuck do you think you _are_?!"

Knuckles burned white as Itachi gripped his backpack hard enough for the zipper to dig into the soft flesh of his palms.

"Goddammit – will you _say_ something?!" Sasuke was so angry that he seemed to be completely ignoring the way his lungs struggled to provide enough oxygen for him to practically shout across the bed, "Why are you fucking doing this?! Do you really just feel that sorry for me?!"

Every word was like a hot knife that slashed at Itachi's chest. He never meant to make Sasuke feel as if he was in desperate need for his help, or that he pitied him. Itachi only ever wanted to see him happy…

"You know what? Never-fucking-mind. Just…" Sasuke deflated a little as his steam began to run out, "Just go away. Don't fucking come back."

Itachi's voice wavered, "Sasuke –"

"Get out!"

His tone was so harsh, so full of anger, that Itachi felt as if he had been physically punched in the throat. He didn't want to leave – he wanted to stay and explain things, explain why he did what he did and why he was so ready to literally give a physical part of himself to save Sasuke's life, but no words would come. Itachi's mind went completely blank.

Sasuke shouted and swore at him again, but there was a ringing in Itachi's ears that reduced it to background noise.

Itachi's feet carried him to the door.

It shut behind him with a soft _click_.

His body felt light and floaty as he walked down the hall, similarly to when one was so drunk that it almost felt as if you were wading through water. The sound around him was muted, as if Itachi's ears were stuffed with cotton.

Thirty-two notifications greeted him when Itachi unlocked his phone, glaring up at him with harsh white lettering against the selfie of Itachi, Shisui and Haku from years ago. Seventeen were missed calls from a number he didn't recognize – an international one, at that – and nine were voicemails. The rest were all news alerts on the shooting from the pre-programmed CNN app.

Just as he cleared them to open up Uber, his phone began to buzz with an incoming call.

The same international number.

"Hello -?"

_"Itachi-kun?"_

He blinked at the wall in front of him, "Yes?"

There was a loud, gusty sigh of relief on the other end of the line, and there were murmurs in the background that Itachi couldn't make out. There was something familiar about the voices, though he failed to pinpoint where exactly he had heard them before.

_"Oh, thank god, we were so worried! We've been trying to call for hours –"_

Itachi leaned against the wall, too drained to play the waiting game, "Who is this?" he asked with a tone sharp enough to cut through a tree.

_"It's Izuna, your cousin in Gujo Hachiman!"_

Every drop of moisture seemed to evaporate from Itachi's mouth as his tongue felt as if it was shriveling up. Izuna? The cousin that taught him how to bridge jump?

 _"We know maybe you don't want to talk to us, after everything that's happened and all,"_ a familiar female voice added, _"But we know you just came out as homosexual, and the shooting is all over the news –"_

 _"We just had to make sure you were safe,"_ an elderly woman explained, _"We love you so much, Itachi-kun."_

The hallway began to spin as Itachi sagged into the wall for support. His family. They were saying they loved him. They worried _– they worried about him._

 _"Are you hurt, man? You weren't there, were you?"_ Izuna sounded earnest.

Itachi shook his head, then realized that they wouldn't be able to see him. "I was on the opposite end of the country…"

A deeper male voice jumped into the call – Uncle Teyaki? _"That's so good to hear – we have been out of our minds with worry!"_

Naori, Aunt Uruchi, Uncle Teyaki and Izuna all tried to talk over one another as they proclaimed their feelings of concern and love and support all at once, but it was little more than a jumbled mess in Itachi's ears, which were ringing. He struggled to remain upright against the wall; it was only by sheer willpower that he managed to keep himself from allowing his phone to fall to the floor.

This didn't make sense.

His family _hated_ him. They never even made an _attempt_ at contacting him after his father told them that he was gay. They thought of him as a scourge – a blight on the family name. So, why..?

On the other end of the call, the conversation moved in just that direction.

_"Tell us, dear – and be honest – do you extend your grievances with your parents towards us?"_

_"Whatever happened between you and them, you know we still love you no matter what –"_

_"Izuna's right, man, you're still our family –"_

_"We miss you so much, Itachi-kun! We don't care what happened with your parents -!"_

_"Alright, alright, give him time to answer,"_ his uncle cut in.

There was a round of collective murmurs of impatience as his extended family members fought the urge to eagerly lob more questions at him.

But Itachi had no answers.

This didn't make sense.

This went against everything he came to understand over the last six years.

He couldn't breathe.

 _He didn't_ _**understand** _ _._

_"Itachi-kun?"_

_"Are you still there, dear?"_

Itachi hung up.

"Dude, you look like a shit sandwich that was left in the microwave for too long," Deidara commented the second he stepped out of the doorway.

Behind him, Sasori made a face, "That's real nice, jackass."

Itachi hardly paid any attention to them, toeing off his sneakers as to not track dirt through the house. The house was a forty-minute drive away from Sharp Memorial, so his nerves were already beginning to buzz angrily at him by the time he crossed the threshold. All Itachi wanted to do was get some things for Sasuke, grab his laptop, and get back to the hospital. Even if Sasuke was being preoccupied with what Doctor Senju described as routine tests, he didn't want to be away from him for too long. It didn't matter if he was angry – Itachi should have never left him alone.

"Is that Itachi?" a familiar voice called from the living room. When Sasori shouted back that, yes, his lover had returned home, there was some shuffling that prefaced Kisame barreling around the corner like the boulder that chased Indiana Jones in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. Itachi had only a moment to brace himself before gorilla-like biceps wrapped around his shoulders to squeeze him against his body.

"Oh my god, baby," Kisame muttered into his hair around kisses, "I love you, baby, I love you, I love you…"

Itachi was speechless. All he could do was stand in the middle of the foyer and let his boyfriend crush him to his chest as if he were a life preserver, declaring his love in whispers that were mostly lost between them. Kisame brought his face up to smother it in kisses, and that was when Itachi had to wrench himself free just to have enough room to breathe.

Kisame wouldn't let him completely go, though, and Itachi felt too numb to fight him off.

"There was a shooting," Kisame's fingers trembled slightly as he fitted Itachi's bangs behind his ears, "In Florida, and I couldn't get a hold of you, and…" he trailed off to pull him into his chest again.

Itachi didn't squirm away this time. He understood that Kisame needed the validation and comfort that came from holding him, so he slipped his own arms around his thick waist to snuggle in closer, "I know."

Even if he hadn't heard the news from the household artists, there were enough people in the lobby of the hospital looking to donate blood that Itachi heard the words "Pulse" and "Shooting" at least twelve times just on his way out of the building.

"Do you have to go back to the hospital?" the larger man asked, the lilt to his voice letting Itachi know that he didn't want him to leave.

He nodded wordlessly.

Kisame pulled back just enough to get a look at his face, eyes searching his, "It's bad, isn't it..?"

Again, Itachi nodded. He broke their shared gaze to stare at the intricate design that stretched over his chest and shoulder, "He…" Itachi sniffed, feeling his eyes fill with tears he didn't even know he still had, "He's…"

Kisame's hands skirted over his arms to link their fingers together, "Alright, let's go get you a shower."

"No, I need to get back –"

"You need _rest_ , Itachi," Kisame insisted gently, "Look at you, you're dead on your feet…" his thumb brushed a bandage that was wrapped around Itachi's hand, and frowned, "What's this?"

Itachi shrugged. He did not care to recant the events that led to him falling to his knees in the middle of the hospital hall, where he sprained the same hand he had injured when punching Hidan.

Instead of sounding even frustrated at the lack of response, Kisame only sighed and crouched down to scoop his boyfriend up in his arms. Itachi was so completely weary that he could not bring himself to so much as entertain the idea of protesting. He only offered a half-hearted glare in quietude.

That was fine. Itachi could glare at him all he wanted – he needed to make sure that he was taken care of before he ran off to go carry Sasuke's weight on his shoulders like he wanted to. Kisame carried him up the stairs, down the hall, to the bathroom, and took special care to not knock any part of Itachi on the doorway as he took him into the bathroom. When he set him down, Kisame tried to not get too worried at the way he swayed to the side.

"Shower up, take a nap –" when Itachi opened his mouth to protest, Kisame gestured for him to wait, "You _need_ sleep, Itachi. You didn't sleep in Sweden, or on the plane, and I know you didn't sleep last night when you were with him."

Dark eyes, ringed in almost just as dark bruises and filled to the brim, stared at him.

When he finally spoke, Itachi's voice was so hoarse that Kisame had to pay careful attention to make out his words, "I should not have left him alone…"

"You're not leavin' him alone, babe," Kisame reached forward to squeeze his hands, "I'll take you right back to him. Let me take care of you, so you can take care of him."

A tear slipped free to roll down Itachi's cheek as he whispered, "But who takes care of _you_..?"

Kisame… Had no answer for that. He never needed anyone to take care of him – he was always the one that took care of other people.

"I only take advantage of you…" Itachi's eyes fell to the floor as another tear trailed to his chin, "That is all I do. I am just trash that burdens you with my troubles –"

 _What?_ No, no, nononono – Kisame's hands rose to cup his jaw, but Itachi stepped out of his reach.

"Baby, you're just tired, and you've been stressed lately…" With the tournament, and preparing for Worlds, and whatever is so bad with Sasuke that he had to be rushed to the ER in the middle of the night…

Kisame could hardly form sentences as his stomach twisted itself into knots. "You're _not_ taking advantage of me – I _love_ being able to make you happy."

But Itachi wouldn't meet his gaze. He kept twitching away every time his fingers grazed his skin. Tears continued to fall. His shoulders sagged and his arms were crossed tight over his chest, like he was trying to physically hold himself together.

"I should have never attempted to pursue anything with you," he shook his head and stepped away when Kisame made another attempt to reach for him, "You deserve someone better – you deserve that can reciprocate your kindness."

Kisame felt his blood run cold. Itachi's eyes had finally left the floor to lock with his, and there was so much raw torment in those mesmerizing irises that his heart felt like it might actually stop beating. Maybe it already had. Kisame wasn't sure. All he knew that the best thing to ever happen to him was trying to walk out of his life.

"I can… I can only hope that you can forgive me for being so problematic," Itachi continued, voice wavering, "I am so, so sorry for causing you so much trouble."

The world felt like it was about to crumble around his ears to bury him where he stood. Kisame could feel his chest tighten and something cold and awful slither around all of his insides to squeeze tight enough for him to think he might vomit. He knew that Itachi was saying – Kisame knew what was going to happen next.

The idea of a life without Itachi was so daunting, so beyond the scope of what he could handle, that Kisame could hardly bring himself to respond. What could he do? If Itachi genuinely wanted to end things and move on with his life, who was Kisame to tell him no, or to try to convince him otherwise?

He wanted to cry.

"You should go, Kisame."

Something was wrong. Something was so unquestionably _wrong_ with Itachi that Kisame could see it physically radiating off of his body like an evil aura, but he didn't know _what_. He didn't know what was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it. Something snapped inside of Itachi just then that was making him try to push Kisame away and out of his life –

Then, Itachi just… Collapsed. He dropped to his knees and keeled over, both of his arms wrapped tight around his midsection. It sounded like he was choking, with the way he gasped and sputtered and struggled to breathe.

When Kisame knelt down in front of him to gather him up in his arms, he flinched away, shaking his head.

"D-don't touch me – just leave… Just leave me alone – I don't… I don't…" Itachi's fingers curled into claws around his ribs, and his eyes screwed shut, "You need someone better – you deserve more than trash - "

Every fiber of Kisame's being told him to listen to Itachi and not lay a finger on him, to not violate the consent that he had so carefully respected, but, in that moment, he threw caution to the wind as he grabbed Itachi and gathered him into his arms on the floor, ignoring his sobbing protests. Itachi twisted and writhed in his embrace, pushing on his chest to break free.

"Please, Kisame, please – _please_ –"

Kisame held him in an iron-like embrace, shushing him.

Itachi was too exhausted to fight any longer, though. He melted in Kisame's arms to sag limply into his body, crying into his chest.

"I don't… I don't know what to do…" he gasped, "I don't… I don't… Kisame…"

He was fighting for control – Kisame understood it now. Something happened that threw Itachi's entire life on its head and, instead of resorting to physically harming himself or drinking himself into oblivion, he was forcing a part of his life to implode just to have a sense of control over what happened to him.

Kisame pulled his hair free of its tie so it could spill over his shoulders, running his fingers through the silky smooth locks. He let Itachi sob and ramble if it meant that he would drain himself and release some of the turmoil that raged inside of him, just opting to hold him close and as tight as he could.

His hands finally reached out for Kisame, gripping the pullover he wore and burying himself in his embrace. Even when no more tears remained to be shed, when all Itachi could do was quiver in his lover's hold and gasp into his chest, Kisame only continued to cradle him to his body and press tender kisses into his hair. He shook so intensely that Kisame wondered if he might shatter into a million pieces right there in front of him.

So, he let him. Itachi needed this – he _needed_ to break down and fall apart if he was ever going to find a way to pull himself together and figure things out. This was simply how he was; it was how Itachi dealt with things that he couldn't normally handle.

Kisame waited for as long as Itachi needed, he wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. All he knew was that, eventually, Itachi quieted down. His shoulders continued to quiver, and his breaths sometimes came out as ragged whimpers, but he was no longer crying.

That was all Kisame truly wanted.

"He needs a kidney," Itachi whispered.

"Sasuke?"

He nodded, "He won't take mine."

Kisame used his fingertips to massage soothing circles into the nape of his neck, "It's a big thing to accept from someone, Itachi."

"But, he's..." Itachi's voice was so small it was almost unrecognizable, "He is in total renal shutdown, and dialysis bears too many risks for him to endure it long-term. Sasuke _needs_ a donor - _right now_."

"Did he say why doesn't want yours?" Kisame asked, kind of figuring that he already knew the answer.

Itachi fell quiet.

"He thinks I view him as a charity case," he finally murmured, "He does not believe that I actually care for him."

Kisame sighed and thought for a moment. Truth be told, he didn't know too much about Sasuke other than what Itachi told him, which wasn't much. Most of what he knew was that the kid could have an attitude problem when he wanted to, and that he followed Itachi everywhere he went like a puppy when they were together. As far as Kisame knew, Sasuke didn't really have any other friends, though he saw him Tweet at the Naruto kid from Leaf Esports a few times.

"Do you feel bad for him?"

Itachi's face whipped around to glare at him, looking defensive, "Of course not -!" he paused mid-sentence, then turned his face back down, something guilty lingering in the back of his eyes.

"I mean... When I first offered to spend time together, it was because I pitied him somewhat. I knew Sasuke did not have many friends, and it was clear that he was distraught over the news of my tryout with Akatsuki, so I offered that we stay in touch after my departure."

Kisame hummed, "You still feel that way?"

When Itachi's eyes finally came up to meet his, there was a glimmering in the backs of his eyes that could only be described as combatively ardour, "Do not be absurd -!"

"Then _tell_ him that," Kisame interjected calmly, rubbing a soothing thumb along the silky skin of his tear trough, "You gotta look at this from his side of things, too, ya know."

Itachi wiped the corner of his wrist over one eye to brush away a tear that clung to the ends of his absurdly long lashes like a glittering gem, "I just wish he was not so insistent on rejecting my help. I... I love him so much, Kisame," his breathing hitched, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "He is so precious to me, and he is suffering so terribly right now."

Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, Kisame released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, "I know, baby. I'm sure he'll come around when you two talk it over."

"But what if he doesn't?" Itachi's voice cracked.

A wry smirk tugged at his mouth, "That punk isn't gonna let something like this beat him. If he really doesn't want your help, he'll tough it out until a donor comes along."

"But -"

Kisame silenced him by pressing the rough pad of his thumb over the center of his lips, "One step at a time, baby. Talk to him first, and worry about the rest after."

Itachi's eyes continued to shimmer like two black gems that had been caught in the rain; his sclera were bloodshot from the strain of crying and he still seemed so exhausted that it almost looked painful. They continued to search his for an incalculable amount of time that felt like an entire eternity but, just as soon as those beautiful lips parted to speak, Itachi's phone rang.

Another wave of anguish passed over his face. When it was clear that he wasn't going to answer it, Kisame took the liberty of fishing it out of his back pocket to put it on silent; he figured that any call that wasn't from the hospital could wait.

His dark eyebrows drew inwards when he saw the number on the caller ID, "Is this a foreign number?" Most of Kisame's family lived in a part of Tonga where international calls were too superfluous to consider, but he remembered a similar phone number format from when Haku's Japanese and Korean sides of the family would call him; the kid had an annoying habit of leaving his phone all over the place.

Black hair swayed ever so slightly with Itachi's subtle nod.

That only further confused Kisame, who opened up the recent call list once the call ran to voicemail to frown at the odd number, "Babe, this number's been calling you every hour for the last four hours." With the first call having been missed and third and fourth sent straight to voicemail. Who the hell was this persistent?

"My family heard about the shooting," Itachi's voice was tight, almost choked, as he explained the situation in a near-whisper, "They called to make sure I was alright."

They called to... What? "I thought you said -"

"That they despised me," Itachi finished for him, "Yes, I did."

"So, why..?"

Slim shoulders shrugged. A fresh tear rolled down his stained cheek.

"'We don't care what happened with your parents,' they said," Itachi croaked, "They asked if I resented them for my parents throwing me onto the streets."

If Kisame became any more confused, smoke would billow out of his ears, "Why would you hold that against them?"

"It is commonplace for Japanese families to extend grudges to the next of kin of whomever offended them."

"So, what, they thought you hated them because your parents kicked you out?"

Another nod. A maelstrom of emotions filled Itachi's features, settling into the indistinct fine lines around his eyes and mouth and deepening them in a way that left him looking ten years older than he was; the most prominent were abject defeat and remorse.

"I can only assume that they were unable to get in contact with me once I moved to Las Vegas - I imagine my father refused to bother with holding on to the forwarding address I left with him, and Shisui was more or less unreachable due to his budding career in _Smash_..." Itachi exhaled heavily and sagged into Kisame's embrace, like he was literally expelling everything he had left in him in that one breath.

Well, this explained the breakdown. As the final piece to the puzzle slipped into place, Kisame found himself unable to even begin to wonder what it might feel like to be in Itachi's position in that moment. To hear about a mass shooting aimed at their community, a possibility of Sasuke dying in the near future, his estranged family telling him that they wanted him in their lives again, all within twenty-four hours... That was rough. That was really fuckin' _rough_. Not to mention, Itachi probably still hadn't been able to process the fact that they had made love for the first time yet, and that the biggest event of his career was fast-approaching.

Kisame wrapped himself around Itachi's limp form. He had no words that would help - there was nothing he could say that would alleviate the sheer amount of stress that was weighing down on him. All he could do was offer what support he could, and take care of Itachi in that moment so that he could brave the shitstorm that was rapidly enveloping his life.

"Get into the shower, baby," he murmured into that lacqeur-like hair, "Take a nice, long, hot shower, and I'm gonna make you some food before you get into bed."

Itachi didn't answer which, truthfully, made Kisame worry more than if he were to break down into another fit of tears; he looked so _numb_. He only stood up - shakily, might he add - and turned his back to Kisame before shrugging his hoodie off of his shoulders and letting it drop to the cold tile floor. Robotically, Itachi moved in slow, calculated movements to strip his clothing away, where it pooled around his feet like a dark puddle.

Beautiful. He was so... Beautiful. Even when he was as miserable as he was, pallid and drained and shambling around in search for a clean wash cloth, Kisame could not stop himself from admiring him like one would a deity. It wasn't fair that someone could feel so awful and still look undeniably like perfection incarnate.

Something about rose-tinted glasses passed through his mind, but Kisame ignored it to focus on taking hold of one of Itachi's hands so he could help him step over the ledge of the shower door. He took the liberty of allowing his hand to fall down to brush over the gentle curve of his iliac crest, noting how he had finally begun to put on a few pounds; his hipbones and ribs no longer stuck out at sharp angles and, despite the situation, Itachi looked considerably healthier than when they first started dating.

Leaving him to his shower, Kisame left the bathroom with a quiet click of the door to make his way down to the kitchen. Sasori and Deidara were still downstairs in the living room watching the all-day news coverage of the Pulse shooting, snuggled up a lot closer than their usual platonic selves allowed, and they both paid him no mind when he rounded the kitchen counter to close the distance between himself and the fridge with the plan to make Itachi one of his favorite comfort foods. Loco moco made with fried spam was single-handedly the best and worst thing to ever happen to his diet, something Kisame wasn't sure if he should thank or curse his sister for as he rifled around in search for the carton of eggs he knew was hiding somewhere on the top shelf. He also swiped the Tupperware full of fried rice that caught his eye from the bottom shelf, leftovers from the night before when no one felt like cooking, and set them both on the counter.

As he grabbed a can of spam from the pantry, Kisame had to stop and wonder if Itachi even liked this kind of stuff. Itachi had a gnarly sweet tooth - something Kisame admittedly contributed to by dropping an extra box of fancy cakes, or swiss rolls, into the stash of Little Debbie products he kept in his desk drawer every now and then - which was probably why he enjoyed that poke bowl so much, but Kisame couldn't really recall any interest in salty, savory types of foods.

Oh, well. There was no ahi tuna or coconut for him to make the same type of poke, and he was already balancing a yellow Argo cornstarch can on the spam so he could reach for the corn oil; Itachi only ever got picky when it came to Kisame's neurotic need to feed him only the healthiest food possible.

Kisame cut the spam into slim slices before coating each side in a thin layer of cornstarch while enough oil for shallow frying heated up in a pan.

"What happened to make you want a pound of fried rice, _and_ fried ham?" a cool voice asked from behind him.

"It's spam," Kisame pointed to the empty can, "Itachi's had a bad day." To put it lightly.

Konan pulled another small pan out and set it on another burner, "The last time I saw you making this was when he went missing."

Yeah, and he had paid for it by taking a metric fuck-ton of insulin.

"Is Sasuke's condition that bad?" she asked, dabbing some oil onto a folded paper towel to brush it along the surface of the pan.

Kisame's chest felt heavy at the reminder. Sasuke, for all his faults, was a good kid, and really fucking talented. He didn't deserve any of this - neither of them did, "Yeah."

Konan frowned as she held a hand over the rapidly-heating pan to gauge the heat, "Poor kid. I like him."

Yeah, so did he. They all had taken something of a liking to the teenager in recent months; Sasuke was almost as much of a part of their little family as anyone else living under their roof.

The viscous contents of the first cracked egg immediately started to sizzle upon being dropped into the heated metal, "Over-medium, or sunnyside up?"

"Sunnyside up."

While he loaded some rice onto a clean plate, Konan dropped a second egg in and chucked the broken shells into the sink. The bubbling and popping sounds of food cooking cut through the tense silence between them, which gave Kisame time to process what he had just been told. Sasuke was probably going to die in the months following his eighteenth birthday, Itachi's family was finally reaching out to him for the first time in almost six years...

Would Itachi want to move to Japan?

The heaviness in his chest increased. Every time Itachi spoke about his family or Japan, his eyes would light up like the New York skyline, mitigated by only the longing that lingered in his gaze and voice. Would he pack his things and leave to be with them and make up for lost time?

Kisame could already see it happening: Itachi would want Sasuke to have a surrogate family of sorts, so he would arrange for them both to move to be with his family in Hokkaido. Itachi would most likely put money aside from Worlds to put Sasuke through college so he could have a life after _Shippuden_ , an industry Kisame knew Itachi was only a part of because of his lack of options, and work his ass off to support the kid. Hell, if Sasuke's birthday wasn't so soon, he'd bet his left nut that Itachi would petition to become his legal guardian.

He tried to suppress the jealousy that crept up his throat. Kisame knew that it was different kind of love than what Itachi had for him, he did, but the love Itachi had for Sasuke was so _intense_. Even if he didn't speak on it, it was obvious that he loved him like a father would love their only child and would scramble to keep him happy and safe, and every time Sasuke looked to Itachi it was like he was _worshiping_ him. Kisame didn't understand it and, at times, it made him feel insecure and made him question if Itachi would put Sasuke's needs over his. Was that selfish? Was it terrible of him to be this worried about whether or not their world was too small to include him?

"Kisame, I think that's done."

Konan's voice snapped him out of his musings and Kisame turned his attention to the pan that she was gesturing at, where the breading coating the spam was beginning to turn from a warm golden color to an unsightly dark brown.

"Ah, shit," Kisame hissed, taking the frying pan off of the heat and reaching for the knob to twist it into the off position. The sizzling immediately disippated to a quiet bubbling; he grabbed a spatula and scooped up the two slivers of spam up out of the oil to transfer it over to a plate lined with some folded paper towels.

With a sad, understanding smile, Konan's persimmon-colored eyes softened as she turned off the burner and slid her own spatula under a perfectly cooked egg.

"Those two are both strong in their own ways," she said reassuringly, "They'll pull through this."

No other words were exchanged while Kisame finished preparing the plates. He pulled the rice out of the microwave and scooped a third of it onto a clean plate - Itachi had an annoying habit of eating like a damn _sparrow_ \- before drizzling some katsu sauce out of a glass jar and loading the spam and egg on top.

Itachi was stepping out of the hall with a towel wrapped around his waist by the time Kisame made his way up the stairs and into the hall of bedrooms. When he looked over to him there was a little less of that hopelessness in his gaze, but there was still too much lingering for Kisame to feel any sense of relief. Still, he plastered on a welcoming grin and squared his shoulders.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Those perfectly round lips framed by lightly flush cheeks stretched, albeit marginally, into a dry smile that was just enough to show white, even teeth. Itachi didn't respond as he eyeballed the plates curiously.

"Loco moco," Kisame explained, lifting them up, "Hoshigaki-style."

"You didn't have to -"

"I _wanted_ to," Kisame quickly cut him off, "Besides, you know how long it's been since I had a good reason to eat some greasy, salty comfort food?"

That seemed to help a little. Itachi's features brightened up enough for Kisame to keep up some lighthearted chatter going while they migrated into Itachi's bedroom. Oddly enough, Kisame never spent any time in here - the one time he came home late after a day out with Juzo, Itachi had his door locked so Kisame didn't bother with coming in uninvited anymore; he just let his room become their private hangout spot and didn't question the obvious signs of nighttime barricading, like the marks the dresser left in the carpet.

Just like Itachi, the room was neat. Everything had its own place, such as the books arranged in alphabetical order on a tidily dusted waist-high bookshelf, and the few video games that were piled in a smooth and straight stack next to the PlayStation 3 that Shisui had left with him when he moved to New York.

A stark contrast to the rest of his room, Itachi's bedsheets were sweat-stained and askew. The nightstand was full of bottles of acetaminophen and symptom reducers, all clustered together next to a half-empty box of tissues and the thermometer that you put in your ear; used tissues littered the carpeted floor, alongside empty water glasses and a bowl that was lined with a dry, chunky film that was probably oatmeal residue.

 _Shit_.

Something that could only be described as pure, unadulterated self-loathing encompassed Itachi's features, and a translucent rivulet of shower-water rolled down his bare chest when his shoulders slumped inwards.

It didn't even cross Kisame's mind that Itachi's room would need to be cleaned up before he got back. Now, right when he was finally starting to look like he was feeling better, they were looking at an image that painted a story of extended suffering. Kisame could only imagine how shitty the kid felt while he was trapped in bed, only getting worse while treating the wrong sickness.

"I will turn down the bed and get changed," Itachi said softly, voice only barely louder than a whisper, already reaching for some of the dirty dishes, "I will meet you in your room momentarily."

"Do you want some help?" Kisame offered, watching the way his fingers trembled around the lip of the oatmeal bowl.

Itachi shook his head, and he knew better than to push right now so Kisame turned to the door to leave him alone, leaving the door shut even when Itachi's quiet sobs floated into the hall.

* * *

"I don't understand why we are wasting time lurking the administration level."

Kisame waved Itachi's protests away, turning another corner, "Trust me, babe."

Feline-like eyes glared up at him. Patience was a virtue, but Itachi wanted nothing more than to take the stairs two at a time until he was standing in Sasuke's hospital room and being updated on any changes to his condition. Why they were roaming aimlessly through identical halls, passing nurses that were avoiding eye contact by averting their gazes or looking through folders when they passed by, was simply beyond him.

What could be so important that -?

"Kisame!"

When they were stopped by an unfamiliar doctor with a clean-shaven face and his touch-of-grey dyed hair, Itachi had half of a mind to rip the corkboard off of the wall next to them and beat both of them until they were ready to let him go _fucking_ see Sasuke.

"Hey Doc," Kisame fist-bumped the newcomer.

He nodded in Itachi's direction with a devilish smirk, "Is this the guy I can't get you to shut up about?"

Looking like he had been caught doing something naughty, Kisame blushed and reached out to wrap an arm around Itachi's shoulders, "Yep, this's my boyfriend," he turned back to the doctor, "How ya been?"

Itachi was going to _scream_. Is _this_ what they were doing down here?!

The doctor - a shiny white nameplate pinned to his chest read A. Sangiacamo - seemed completely oblivious to Itachi's frustration as he started talking about his wife's cat making his seasonal allergies year-round. He told some stupid-as-shit joke about accidentally doping on Zyrtec that Kisame laughed way too hard at, with his shoulders bouncing enough to make his pecs jiggle in a way that was normally endearing, and it took every ounce of Itachi's learned self-control to not start tapping his toes against the scuffed linoleum beneath his sneakers.

Thankfully, Kisame kept the conversation brief after catching a glimpse of his boyfriend impatiently smooth out his hair. With a promise to see him in a couple of weeks for a bimonthly visit, he said his farewells and motioned for Itachi to keep following him.

"Sorry," Kisame offered a guilty grin, "That was my endocrinologist."

Itachi tried not to glare in response, "Where are we going, Kisame?" he asked, allowing his exasperation to slip into his tone.

"Right..." he stopped at a door and opened it with flourish, "Here."

One blink. Two. Itachi sighed at the unassuming label bolted off to the side of the door frame, "The chapel?" When did he ever come off as religious? How was Itachi meant to find solitude in a place of worship that was only different from his father's megachurch by size and decor? What kind of wires must have gotten crossed for Kisame to assume that he should want to come here?

As if reading his thoughts, Kisame gave him a knowing smile and shook his head before reaching for the door handle with one hand, the other wrapping around Itachi's fingers.

"We're not here to pray, baby."

Confused, but intrigued, Itachi followed him over the chapel's threshold. It had been six years since he had stepped into anything resembling a house of God and, frankly, he half expected to see Fugaku standing at the podium roaring about how his own son was the embodiment of sin, destined to damnation.

Itachi subconsciously positioned himself closer to Kisame's body, letting that soothing aura of warmth and spicy body wash settle his nerves. His fingers traveled over the dips and curves of his arm to follow the pattern of black ink that Itachi now knew by heart; his heart always swelled a little with excitement when he found that a part of Kisame's body had gotten a little larger but it seemed that, today, he would find no such comfort.

When he was stopped in front of a hauntingly familiar instrument, it was clear that it wasn't Kisame's corded forearms that he was meant to be comforted by.

"Kisame..."

A flicker of panic splashed through Itachi like a thin stream of icy water trickling through his inferior vena cava when Kisame pulled away from him, and he turned on his heel in time to watch his lover drop into a lacquered pew. Kisame looked much too large for the wooden bench, which creaked loudly in protest of the tremendous weight it was now tasked with supporting, but he ignored the way the panels bowed ever so slightly as he draped one thick arm over the back of the bench, the other falling to the armrest.

Piercing blue eyes pointedly locked onto the dark piano, then drifted up back to lock on Itachi's in a silent invitation: He could either slip under the safety and security of his boyfriend's arm, or he could break past the barrier that Itachi had thrown up between himself and his most beloved instrument.

Longing filled Itachi to the brim. It seeped through his skin and stained his clothing. It weighed down his shoulders and twisted up all of his insides, squeezing and releasing at erratic intervals. It never occurred to Itachi just how desperately he missed playing until this very moment, when the need to just _touch_ that finished wood was nearing a crescendo that was close to driving him mad.

"The first time I ever played piano was on my fourth birthday," Itachi murmured, craning his neck to follow the curve of the console's glossy side arm with his eyes, "It was a black parlor grand with the most exquisite blue trimming..."

It was the same blue as his mother's eyes, which were like two endless oceans of love and compassion.

Itachi came around to fully face the piano, which blurred before him as the corners of his eyes began to burn. "I hadn't the faintest clue as to what I was doing, but I spent the entirety of my birthday following my mother's movements until I had effectively mastered my first Mozart piece," he continued, "It was Twelve Variations on ' _Ah_ vous dirai _-_ je _, Maman,_ ' and it was one of the only moments where my father ever looked truly proud of me."

The entire time Itachi poured his guts out, Kisame listened silently with an unmatched intensity burning in his eyes. He watched every one of Itachi's movements, whether it be his fingers extending to caress the fall board or the way his hair swayed across his back when he lowered himself onto the piano bench. A myriad of emotions all seemed to wage war in the backs of his beautifully dark eyes, all struggling to take control of Itachi's weary heart. Fear, anguish, loneliness, anger...

There was an immense amount of love, however, so much so that it looked like it might rip Itachi apart at the seams.

A bolt of electricity raced up Itachi's arm when his finger grazed the first key; it gave just ever so slightly beneath his skin.

One deep breath to expel his nerves. A second to make him feel stable - calm.

Itachi's left middle finger came down on a slim black key, and the rich sound that ensued was joined by another when his pinky pressed another black key. He lifted his middle finger briefly before hitting the same key again, his pinky still holding down its first note even as his index and thumb held down a black and white key respectively.

Sounds turned to tones. Tones turned into music. Pressing keys turned into playing.

Music turned into a song.

Time ceased to exist. Itachi moved without thinking, allowing his fingers to travel the expanse of keys of their own free will as his toes worked the pedals; he let himself play outside of the sheet music, to play a little slower than the original tempo demanded in some parts, and faster in others. Nothing mattered outside of that space - the piano and Itachi were the entire world to him.

Mendelssohn's _Opus 30 Number 6, Songs Without Words_. Vetle Naero's _Blackbird's Piece_. Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata._ Chopin's _Opus 28 Number 4, Prelude,_ in E minor. Debussy's _Clair de Lune_. Liszt's transcription for Mozart's _Ave Verum Corpus_. Bach's _Prelude and Fugue Number 12_ in F minor. Itachi played them all, and more. Before a song ended he was already transitioning into the beginnings of another, until everything he played began to merge together and take on a life of its own. With every press of a key Itachi let a piece of himself break away, knowing that the tone of the piano would fit it right back into place and soothe away the pain. It tore him apart and healed him all at once.

This was so much more than cathartic weeping. It did not leave him feeling numb and exhausted like cutting did. It was as if the piano was taking away all of his pain and frustration and replacing it with a warm sense of serenity, without asking for anything in return. A musician's instrument was his greatest friend, his most passionate lover; there was an intimacy between the two that no outsider could ever hope to match.

By the time Itachi's hands stilled, he could not remember the last time he felt this kind of solace.

A warm hand between his shoulder blades pulled him back to the present; warm lips on his temple reminded him where he was. Itachi leaned into Kisame's chest when his arms looped around his shoulders, closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

Now, he understood why Kisame brought him here - why he ignored his complaints and protests and insisted that they come to the chapel before seeing Sasuke. Itachi needed this: He needed to be calm and clear-headed before he tried to talk to an emotional, scared teenager about trying to save his life; being bogged down by his own personal turmoil would have only made the situation worse.

"I'll wait here," Kisame promised quietly, as if unwilling to break the peaceful quiet between them.

Itachi swiveled around on the bench before standing up, using his tiptoes to raise himself enough to press a kiss to Kisame's lips. He savored the way he tasted. He basked in his love for only a moment longer, reveling in the kind of closeness that was rivaled only by the afterglow of sex.

"I love you," Itachi whispered against his lips, fingertips grazing his strong jawline.

Kisame's only response was to hold him tighter against his body and slant his mouth over his for another long kiss. Oh, how he loved this man; this wonderful man.

Itachi slipped away just a second later.

* * *

Sasuke looked even worse than he did when Itachi left him earlier that day. His skin was ashen and his eyes were red and swollen in the telltale sign that he had been crying. At the sound of the door clicking open, he hastily looked up from his lap, eyes expectant, hopeful. When Sasuke saw who his visitor was, something that looked like distress and relief crossed his features.

"Nii-san -"

"I want you to listen to me," he said calmly, crossing the room before coming to sit on the edge of Sasuke's bed, "Will you let me explain myself?"

Clearly full of his own questions and explanations, the teenager thought for a moment before nodding.

"Sasuke, I never had a true home. I grew up in a household where I never felt appreciated, or loved. My parents disowned me for being homosexual before I was given the chance to so much as graduate high school," he explained, reaching out to twirl a lock of Sasuke's hair around his finger, "I was forced to find employment in a brothel as a prostitute just to make ends meet on my own. I never enjoyed _Shippuden_ but, I was so desperate to get away from a manipulative relationship, I let Shisui talk me into going pro. I was never happy. I never made friends. When I made attempts to befriend a teammate, we started a relationship where I was raped and abused until I tried to commit suicide."

Sasuke's eyes widened in horror as he spoke, his mouth forming a small _o_ that curved downwards at the corners.

Itachi continued, "My entire life had been nothing but such a losing battle up until that point, I no longer felt like there would ever be a chance for me to obtain happiness…" his fingers slid down Sasuke's forehead to trace his slim eyebrow, "I found happiness, though. I found it in Kisame, and you. Do you understand how happy you make me?"

"I want to see you live the life I couldn't ever have, otouto. I want you to have all of the opportunities that I never did," his hand slipped along the outer line of his face to cup his cheek, "I want to take care of you and make it so that you can do everything your heart desires."

Sasuke turned his face into his hand, sobbing quietly.

"Let me take your pain away, Sasuke," he whispered, leaning back down to touch their foreheads together, "And I promise that you will never be alone ever again. I will take care of you, and love you, and keep you safe, for the rest of our lives."

Sasuke just… Broke down.

Like a good big brother, Itachi held him.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I've written this chapter five different times. I wrote some big sobbing scene with Sasuke and feels and family drama, I wrote a scene where Itachi took everything in stride like he would in the anime, I wrote all of this stuff but I'm just never happy with how it turns out, which sucks because I've kind of been building up to this for several months. I know that the wait's been long, and I know this chapter's short, but I'm kind of at my limit. Truth be told, this wasn't ever even meant to be a fanfiction. This is a story for a visual novel I've been planning out for about a year, and all of this stuff with Sasuke and Kisame and Worlds are their own different routes, so I fucked up by testing out ideas in fanfiction form and there's so much sad, sappy shit going on that it's been exhausting to write.
> 
> Anyways, SK Telecom T1 signed Huni and that's some dumbass bullshit right there. It's like they felt they were too OP with Peanut so they had to nerf themselves by signing the guy that tilts like a motherfucker in the NA region. What.

"What does getting tattooed feel like?"

A dark eyebrow lifted at the sudden break in their comfortable silence, and Kisame's eyes flitted away from the television screen for just a moment before his face got all tense like it always did when he was trying to find the words for something; Itachi found it to be rather cute when his forehead made that little crinkle.

"The weather nice over there in left field?" he teased with a grin.

Itachi only smiled and repositioned himself on top of the duvet, folding his legs beneath him and leaning his weight into Kisame's shoulder. The book he had been only staring at, with none of its contents really sinking in, was set to the side to free up Itachi's hands, which automatically gravitated to Kisame's forearm so he could trace the familiar pattern of his tattoo.

"Best way I can really put it, is that is kinda feels like scratching at a bad sunburn," Kisame explained once Itachi was comfortably situated with his knees resting over one of his thighs, "It's irritating as hell, but it doesn't really hurt…" his gazed drifted down to meet Itachi's for a quick moment, "Why?"

With a noncommittal shrug, Itachi continued to trail the tips of his fingers along the ornately decorated tricep, "I am merely curious."

Kisame clearly didn't buy his answer, because something that could only be described as a blend of amusement and confusion filled his features. "You thinkin' about getting some ink?"

There was a lilt to his tone that spurred Itachi to look up with a frown, "You do not want me to?"

"I'onno, I just…" Red bloomed beneath his black gill-like tattoos, and Kisame offered his own shrug as he very pointedly stared straight ahead at the television, "You're pretty the way you are."

It was Itachi's turn to raise one of his slender eyebrows. "I'm _pretty_ ," he echoed with a drawl.

"I mean – yeah – like…" With a gusty sigh, Kisame frowned at the game over screen presented to him when his distraction led to Marcus Fenix getting shotgunned to pieces by a Locust. "I mean I'm not gonna say 'No, don't get a tattoo' because that'd be a real shit thing to say but, it's like, you have such _nice_ skin, babe."

Itachi's fingertip flicked upwards at the top of Kisame's tattoo before coming back down to brush along his sinewy neck, "You have rather remarkable skin, as well."

Kisame's blush deepened and he smoothed one of his large hands over Itachi's bare thigh, "But yours is so pale, and it's smooth, and clear…" he furrowed his brow thoughtfully, as if carefully picking out his words, before muttering, "I dunno, I just really like how you look now."

A playful smirk danced across Itachi's lips, "I don't want a tattoo, Kisame."

His jaw dropped in time with his eyes widening in shock, "Then why did you let me sit here and…" When he caught the teasing look in Itachi's expression, he simply closed his eyes and chuckled, leaning back into the headboard and pulling his boyfriend with him, "You're a dick, you know that?"

Itachi winced when the movement jostled his elbow, which was sore and bruised from being the primary location for the hospital to retrieve any number of blood samples from him to run for testing. He toppled into Kisame, which bent his arm a little too harshly for it to be comfortable, and it felt like a vice was pinching the inner part of Itachi's elbow like the little girl in Orphan when she was trying to break her own arm.

"Shit, babe, I'm sorry –"

"I'm fine," Itachi waved off Kisame's concern. Once he straightened out his arm the pain immediately began to ebb away, so there was no point in making an issue of it. It wasn't like the night before when Kyusuke and Sasori were horsing around in the hallway and accidentally dragged Itachi down with them when they crashed to the floor; _that_ pain took nearly half an hour to finally go away.

Kisame still looked guilty, though, and he took Itachi's wrist in a gentle hold to lift it up high enough to press his lips over his discolored skin. He circled Itachi's bruise with featherlight kisses, spurred on by his boyfriend's embarrassed giggles.

"Kisame, this is wholly unnecessary," Itachi protested.

An impish grin pulled at Kisame's lips, who started to move upwards to kiss along his bicep, "I gotta make it better."

"You aren't even – _Kisame!_ " Itachi squirmed, laughing with his own toothy smile, when Kisame hooked his arm over one of his broad shoulders to mischievously suck and nip at the anterior axillary fold that was exposed when his baggy shirt sleeve slipped up to his shoulder.

Kisame chuckled with him while pressing more kisses along the curve of his clothed shoulder. He looped his thick, muscled arms around Itachi's waist to push him down into the mattress, effectively pinning him down with his own body weight and burying his face into his neck.

"What are you even _doing?_ " Itachi asked lightheartedly, arms circling Kisame's shoulders on instinct.

A hum was Kisame's only response, who had by then traded sloppy, playful kisses for ones that were slow and soft. In another situation Itachi would marvel at how such a mountainous man, covered in tattoos and piercings and looking every bit of intense, could express such a loving display of tenderness; now, though, he simply closed his eyes and relished in the sweet feeling of being cradled to his lover's chest.

The air between them shifted to something similar, one that was gentle and warm. A pleasant, welcomed quiet encompassed them as their moment of play passed, and neither of them were by any means complaining; Itachi sighed contently when Kisame's forehead nestled into the hollow of his jaw, and Kisame relished in the way Itachi's cool fingers idly stroked his bare back, following the curves of muscle there. They were pressed so close to one another that they could feel the steady beats of each others' hearts against their chests, and it was so quiet that even just a small shift or a subtle brush of skin could be heard.

Kisame felt like he could spend an eternity just like this, wrapped up in his lover's arms – in _Itachi's_ arms. He hated how much difficulty he had with words, knowing that Itachi struggled to understand what Kisame got out of their relationship, because it was moments like this that Kisame savored. Past boyfriends had just as much energy as he did and wanted to do one thing after the other: Hiking, rock climbing, dinner and a movie, going to shows, fucking on every date, playing video games until the sun rose, spending the day at the beach… It was fun, but it was so _exhausting_.

Itachi didn't want that, though. Itachi always seemed perfectly happy with spending evenings together in his room reading a book while Kisame played a game, or watching something on Netflix and cuddling. It kept him grounded and gave Kisame time to breathe outside of their busy schedules of interviews and practicing and fulfilling sponsorship obligations, and it made him feel appreciated – really _appreciated_ , as if his presence and attention was something to be genuinely thankful for. Meanwhile, Itachi was teaching him about the cultures and languages and religions that were depicted in the period pieces and documentaries he was always watching whenever Kisame wasn't bullying him into watching some raunchy Adult Swim cartoon. He taught Kisame how to recognize symbolism in horror games and movies in a way that actually helped Kisame begin to enjoy the genre.

They were all things that Kisame never felt in previous relationships, which was probably why he gave up dating in his late-twenties and just opted for casual sex with randos from bars. Past boyfriends all wanted to go out and do things together, but there wasn't any quality in their time spent. Itachi let him quiet down from his usual jovial self without constantly asking if he was alright for not always being packed with energy, and still managed to fill their time together in a way that made each of their days memorable.

In that moment, Kisame realized that he _could_ spend an eternity like this. Kisame wanted this, what Itachi offered - _forever_.

"What are you thinking about?" Itachi's voice, just barely louder than a whisper, broke the fragile silence between them.

There was no way in hell Kisame was going to start talking about the way his chest got all warm and fuzzy at the prospect of sharing matching wedding bands with Itachi and calling him his husband and shit, so his brain scrambled for something to cover his ass before settling on, "Just thinking about the future, I guess."

Itachi hummed, bringing one of his hands up to comb his fingers through Kisame's hair, which was beginning to show a fair amount of dark roots that told the story of a missed appointment with his stylist.

While it was meant to be vague, Kisame's own response brought a new thought to his mind so he finally released Itachi's body to slip off to the side, lying next to him and draping one arm over his waist while the other pillowed his head.

"What do you wanna do after this, Itachi?"

At the use of his name, and not "Babe", Itachi felt himself become a little more alert. The same intensity that used to steal his breath away had returned to Kisame's sharp gaze, and he had to fight to keep himself from becoming completely mesmerized by just how beautiful his eyes were when that kind of passion emerged. As much as he liked to play around and joke with people it was easy to perceive him as some kind of big goof, but it was moments like this, when they were alone, when Itachi was reminded that there was so much more to him than the jokes and happy grins.

He turned onto his side and folded one arm under his head in a mirror of Kisame's position, his other coming up to rest over Kisame's naked chest.

"I haven't the faintest idea, truthfully."

That was… Not what Kisame was expecting. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, "No idea?"

Itachi shrugged, shaking his head, "I have not given it any thought since I was in high school," he explained, "I have been living for so long with the mindset of just making it paycheck-to-paycheck that I haven't had the opportunity to think about what I want to do next."

That answer didn't seem enough to satisfy Kisame, who looked pensive for a moment.

"I know I would like to attend school, if I can afford it," he added as an afterthought, "I suppose I could leave my major as undecided until I have my general courses completed. Why do you ask?"

Kisame's hand left Itachi's waist to wrap around the hand on his chest. "I'm thinkin' about retiring after Worlds."

Itachi's eyes widened, "What -?"

"I'm just thinking about it right now, baby," Kisame squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The expression he wore told Kisame that he was still wary, but it seemed that the initial shock was quickly giving way to his usual thoughtfulness as he stared back at him; instead of projecting his concerns he was giving Kisame a chance to speak.

"I kinda feel like I'm getting too old for this," Kisame sighed a little at having to admit that he was already in his thirties, "My reflexes aren't that great anymore, and eight years is already a hell of a long time to be in esports as a player."

Itachi's expression was passive. "Do you want to go back to your practice?"

He nodded, "I might stay in the scene a couple more years as a coach but, yeah, I want to go back to physical therapy before I hit thirty-five."

"That's understandable," Itachi nearly whispered.

Kisame's heart broke a little at that. Esports had an unspoken guarantee that friends would be pulled apart from one another in the near future after meeting, as most players didn't stay with a team for longer than a year or two and even more retired after a good five years. It was something they both knew going into their relationship, but there was still a hurt in Itachi's eyes that lingered behind a curtain of disappointment.

Scooting forward a little, Kisame touched their foreheads together and gave his hand another squeeze, "But I wanna be with you, Itachi. That's why I'm talking to you about it, so we can figure things out."

"I want to be with you, too, Kisame."

Kisame leaned in for a kiss, noting the tension in Itachi's mouth when he returned it, but Itachi didn't quite let him pull back when they broke apart. He followed him as he pulled away, capturing his lips in another kiss that was just as tense as the first. Kisame suddenly felt like a piece of shit for bringing up the subject knowing full well that Itachi had test results coming in the morning, while he was worried out of his mind for Sasuke's well-being and having to sort out his own familial issues. Now, because of him, Itachi was going to be worrying about their future together on top of everything else.

Cool, smooth hands slipped over his chest, following the swells of muscle his skin was stretched over. Itachi always seemed to be the perfect surface temperature, a direct contrast to Kisame, who might as well be a human furnace, and everything about him was so soft…

Kisame's arms wrapped around Itachi's slim waist to pull him into him, offering his lips unabashedly in silent apology for putting even more stress on his boyfriend. He felt Itachi's own arms wrap around his neck to pull him even closer, pressing their bodies flush, and Kisame slipped one of his knees between Itachi's thighs in response.

"We'll be okay, baby," he murmured between the gaps of their kisses, "We'll figure it out, I promise."

Itachi's arms tightened around his neck, and his lips pushed into his harder. There was something lonely in the way he clung to Kisame's body, as if he was trying to use him to cover up the years he spent alone and isolated from everyone he loved, preventing himself from letting that same feeling of sadness at the prospect of Kisame stepping out of his life take hold. Kisame was shit with using words, so he decided to let his body and actions fill the little holes and wounds in Itachi's heart, rather than some long and drawn-out speech of how much he wholeheartedly adored every single part of his being.

Shit, if he wanted to go to Japan and reconnect with his family, then Kisame would take up language courses at UC in his downtime and go with him. If he wanted to go back to Ohio and go to school, Kisame'd look up physical therapy practices in the Cincinnati area to apply to. It didn't fucking matter where Itachi wanted to go, or what he wanted to do – all that mattered was that Kisame got to listen to the same sweet sighs that danced over his ear as he moved his lips over to Itachi's cheek, for the rest of his natural-born life.

Esports didn't keep them together; it was not their glue.

* * *

"Babe, calm down."

"We are _late_ ," Itachi nearly ripped the hospital door off of its hinges, almost whacking Kisame with it in the process.

"The doctor said the test results would be ready at _around_ ten am, not ten am sharp – and I sure as shit don't remember her saying anything about her withholding the results if you showed up at ten-oh-five."

Itachi's eyes rolled at the comment, but he offered no response as he crossed the lobby floor at a brisk pace that Kisame found difficult to match when he was walking with a little bit of a limp; despite having been gentle, his ass was still pretty damn, albeit pleasantly, sore from an hour of having a dick inside of it.

No regrets – that was a fucking _amazing_ way to start his morning, even if it meant that Itachi was all sorts of grumpy over being a little late.

Tattooed cheeks tugged his lips into a crooked smirk when Itachi aggressively slapped the elevator call button with a huff, "And here I was thinking that _I_ was the only thing you liked to smack like that."

Itachi sighed, irritated and definitely _not_ amused by the reference to their earlier activities. A soft _ding_ preceded the double steel doors opening before them, and Itachi stepped in and practically punched the button for the seventh floor, his hand falling down the length of the panel to hurriedly press the door close button even while Kisame was still stepping into the elevator.

A low chuckle rumbled in Kisame's chest, and he buried his nose in Itachi's hair before murmuring, "Careful, babe, I might get jealous."

" _Must_ you make light of this?!" Itachi snapped, twisting away from the hand that tried to come to rest on the small of his back, "Does this really come off as _so_ trivial to you?!"

Kisame flinched inwardly.

Ouch, okay, that stung a little.

"I'm not trying to make light of anything," Kisame had to make a conscious effort to not sound as defensive as he felt, "I just don't wanna see yourself give yourself an ulcer before going into surgery."

"Do you know how difficult it actually is to develop a stress ulcer?" Itachi asked rather churlishly, "It is more than a matter of having a bad day."

Well, to be fair, it seemed like Itachi was having a shitty _week_ , but Kisame wasn't about to argue that point.

Thankfully, he didn't have to, as Itachi quickly lost his steam and any urge to continue being upset over something that wasn't worth being upset over. Slender shoulders sagged as he sighed, and Itachi pushed his glasses up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw red and yellow starbursts.

"I'm sorry, Kisame."

Warmth enveloped his frame as his boyfriend wrapped him up in a big bear hug, squeezing tight, "It's fine, baby."

"It's not –"

"I said it's _fine_ ," Kisame insisted around a kiss he pressed into his hair, inhaling deep through his nose. Itachi always smelled like the tea he had stashed away in one of the kitchen cupboards, and it was weirdly soothing considering Kisame kind of hated tea.

The elevator dinged to notify its passengers that they reached their destination so Itachi relented, turning his face up for a brief peck before stepping out into the hall.

"Itachi, wait a minute."

Doctor Senju's voice carried down the length of the hall they were standing in, nearly a total reproduction of the moment they met. However, there was a glaring difference between the situations that was more than just Kisame lingering a step behind him, hand held in his. Tsunade's brown eyes were narrowed, and had lost their warmth.

"I need to speak with you," she said matter-of-factly. When she took note of Kisame's presence she added, "Alone."

There was a moment where Itachi just stared at the doctor, not fully comprehending what she had said. When it finally clicked he felt his stomach start to twist itself into one of those pretzels that Sasuke insisted on getting every time they went to the mall together.

Kisame's hands gave both of his shoulders a firm squeeze. "I'll hang in Sasuke's room, then," he said in a voice that sounded only a touch worried.

Tsunade said nothing as he walked away, so Itachi took that as a pretty clear sign that Sasuke still had an assigned room and hadn't been moved to some place like the ICU. Or the morgue.

His stomach untwisted itself a smidge, but not enough for the feeling of dread to flee. He jumped a little when a door down the hall slammed shut with a bang; why were hospital doors so goddamn _heavy_?

Maybe it wasn't that the doors were so heavy that the sound of them shutting sounded like a grenade firing, but that the floor they were on was so quiet – oppressively so; the only sounds that floated through the hall came from a nurse's fingers clacking against a keyboard at her station.

"As a doctor and a surgeon, it's easy for one to assume that it is of the utmost importance that I know everything there is to know about my patients," Tsunade nearly hissed, eyes flashing angrily.

Why was she so angry?

"So you can imagine how upsetting, and dangerous, it is for me to be lied to about a patient's information, including family history."

Quietly, Itachi's brain fumbled and tripped over itself trying to piece together whatever fucked up puzzle Doctor Senju was trying to lay out for him. Okay, so Sasuke lied about something regarding his health? What could he have lied about? As far as Itachi knew – which was a lot, considering he filled out Sasuke's new patient paperwork at the doctor's office – the teenager had no conditions to speak of, unless a fear of abandonment and temper issues were worth mentioning.

Looking back on it now, Itachi couldn't recall a moment when the two discussed Sasuke's family; the subject simply never came up and Itachi allowed himself to come to the conclusion that Sasuke had no clue about his mother or father. Was it shitty of him to assume that he had been abandoned at birth, and that his parents hadn't simply died when he was young?

Itachi's mouth went dry. What if his parents died of some horrible disease, and now Sasuke had it -?

"I know you lied to me, Itachi."

Every thought in Itachi's brain came to a grinding halt. He blinked at Tsunade, confused. "Excuse me?"

That must have been the wrong response, because Tsunade's brow knitted and her previously pretty face contorted with anger.

"When we met, I asked you if you were Sasuke's brother, and you said no," she grit, "Now cut the bullshit. I don't give a damn about why you lied, but I need to know what else you've been hiding from me before you two go under the knife and swap organs."

Wh… What?

Itachi could only stare for several seconds in stunned silence, a calm before the storm.

"There must be some sort of mistake…" he finally managed, albeit a little weakly, "Sasuke and I are not related –"

"I refuse to be lied to again, dammit!" Tsunade snapped, "Test results do not lie – you can't fake your way past science!"

Either because he was too stunned stupid to wrap his head around what she was saying, or because his brain decided to shut down on everything else other than Sasuke's wellbeing, Itachi's eyes dropped down to the clipboard held in her manicured hands before asking, "Are we a match?"

Shit you not, Tsunade actually growled.

"Of course you're a match, you imbecile!" she practically tore off the front page to thrust the test results in Itachi's confused face, "Your tissue typing test came out to a perfect six antigen match, and your cross-matching ran so smoothly that you'd think that it came from Sasuke's own body…"

The doctor continued on an exhausting string of the results of every test that the two went through, dropping the layman's terms halfway through and effectively losing Itachi, who had no idea what she was talking about when she started going into the antibody screening process.

Tsunade tore the clipboard away, "It's the kind of match that I've only ever seen in _twins_ , Itachi."

"But… It's possible for strangers to match well, right?" Itachi's calm was quickly dissipating as his heart rate accelerated.

"Of _course_ it's possible for strangers to match," the doctor spat in an are-you-stupid tone, "What's _not_ possible is for strangers to be a one-hundred-percent, _perfect_ match."

A perfect match…

Itachi's eyes finally rose from where they were staring blankly at the floor. His throat felt so dry that it was difficult to speak but, after a couple of failed attempts of abortive noises, he finally whispered, "But I only met Sasuke a couple of years ago."

As if to ask "What does that matter" Tsunade opened her mouth, only for the realization of what exactly Itachi was saying clicked with her. All of the fiery anger seemed to instantaneously fizzle out of her veins, leaving her looking every bit as shocked as Itachi felt.

"I was an only child…" he breathed, more to himself than to the doctor. He grew up without any siblings – Itachi's entire childhood was spent with only himself, his mother, and his cousin who lived down the street. The closest thing he ever had to a brother was Shisui…

"All I would need is a cheek swab from both of you to confirm my suspicions," Tsunade offered, her tone significantly gentler than before, "Paternity tests typically take 1-2 days but I can have it rushed."

Itachi's hands shook as he reached for the phone in his pocket, his fingers too weak to swipe the unlock icon across the screen on the first try. It didn't even register with him that she had said anything until she called his name softly, almost like a question.

"Do not say anything to him just yet," he muttered, tapping around the dial screen.

After so many years, Itachi still remembered the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button. The digits glowed up at him accusingly.

The hollow sound of the phone ringing in his ear made him nauseous with feelings of being completely overwrought. It vibrated through his skull, drowning out whatever Doctor Senju murmured before leaving for the direction of the nurse's station. It was hard to focus on the nausea, though, when everything else was being thrown into this much turmoil.

 _"Hello?"_ an agonizingly familiar voice answered after four rings, her voice clipped with a thick accent.

"Okaa-san?"

Mikoto began to sob.

* * *

There was a soreness in Itachi's hands, which dangled between his legs, that he had not felt in years. It was not an unwelcomed soreness, yet, one that he did not anticipate when he found himself sliding onto the firm wooden piano bench in the hospital chapel.

He could not play anymore. The mind was willing, but his fingers refused to press down on the keys hard enough for notes to be played.

At some point Itachi would have to stop hiding and go see Sasuke, this much he knew, but, for now, he sagged against the piano as if every ounce of energy in his body had vacated.

Playing helped still his mind. Playing outside of the sheet music and manipulating the notes until each song he played was absolutely his to own had cleared Itachi's focus and allowed him to begin to process everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, including his family's call and the fact that Itachi allowed himself to enjoy sex again, though not in that order.

There were no more tears to shed. All of the chaos that stormed inside of Itachi had calmed – all of the fear and anger and resentment that he had not even been aware that he was still holding onto – and now the only thing that was left was the quiet air one breathed in the wake of a natural disaster. It was the stability of the ground after the dust settled following an earthquake. It was the stillness of the air around you after a hurricane. It was by no means alright, not when there was so much wreckage to clear through before you could heal, but it meant that the worst was over.

Behind him, the door to the chapel opened with a clang that sliced through the silence that Itachi was wrapped in.

There was no hesitation, no resistance, when Kisame's arms scooped him up into his chest to pull him away from the bench. Itachi let himself be carried to the nearest pew, where Kisame sank down and placed him in his lap.

Itachi burrowed himself into his embrace, needing to feel as close to Kisame as humanly possible.

"He has her eyes," he finally whispered hoarsely.

Strong, calloused fingers buried into Itachi's hair to massage slow circles into his scalp. "Hm?"

"Sasuke, he…" Itachi's voice wavered and his throat clenched around the lump that had formed inside of it, "Sasuke has my mother's eyes."

Kisame stayed silent, though his arms twitched in surprise.

"She had an affair when I was a child so, before my father could suspect anything, she…"

Itachi's eyes screwed shut against the raw emotions that tried to cannon him in the heart, feeling the arm Kisame had wrapped around his body tighten to press him even closer to Kisame's chest. Itachi focused on the steady beat of his heart thumping against his chest, and the muted whoosh of air filling his lungs.

" _You must understand, Itachi, your father was an abusive man," Mikoto explains with earnest, "It was a moment of weakness while your father was away for a conference."_

_Itachi is silent. He does not care about his mother's reasons for her infidelity._

_"If he found out that Sasuke was not his, I was afraid that he would turn his violence onto him. I could not risk such a thing."_

_Dark eyes stare at the floor. He wants to ask why she didn't leave Fugaku if he was as tyrannical as she claims he was, but who was he to ask a question like that when he, himself, allowed himself to be mentally and physically abused for so long by someone he loved?_

_"The abuse stopped when I accused him of causing the miscarriage," Mikoto continues, "And I was able to raise you without fear of him hurting you when you got older, even if he was still so hard on you…"_

_This time, Itachi's gaze rises so he could scowl at the wall in front of him, as if the Saint Joseph statue resting on a shelf is his mother._

_"You are my mother, so that means you will always be special to me, and I will always love you," he mutters with venom dripping from every word, "But do not fool yourself into pretending as if you ever did anything for me."_

"That's…" Kisame released a heavy sigh that made both of their bodies rock, "Holy shit, Itachi."

Itachi's breath came in short, ragged bursts, as if he might begin to cry again, and he pressed his forehead against Kisame's neck.

"I need you," he finally breathed, "I don't know how but, I just…" Itachi curled inwards on himself when Kisame's hand left his hair so he could wrap his arm around his shoulders, shielding him against the rest of the world.

"You are the only thing that makes sense, Kisame."

"You are so kind, and understanding, and strong, and you are always around – you're always there for me…" Itachi felt himself begin to tremble weakly, as if his frayed nerves were too tired to push him any harder, "You make me feel safe, and loved, and wanted, and you are the only person I feel like I can truly count on without living in fear of being pushed away for being such a mess, and I need you so badly right now that I feel I am being lanced through the chest, I don't know what to _do_ …"

Itachi could not imagine how depending on someone could hurt and scare him so badly.

Kisame felt helpless as he practically crushed Itachi to his body, the muscles in his arms and chest quivering with tension. Movies and books always idolized characters that were "Exquisitely damaged" as if their pain was something to be romanticized when, in reality, being with someone that was forced to carry so much on their shoulders made for an incomparable heartache.

For as enormous in size Kisame was, he felt small and useless in times such as these. He would do absolutely anything – whatever it took – to help Itachi but, realistically, he knew he could do nothing. Kisame could not scoop out all of the dark thoughts that lingered throughout Itachi's mind. He could not use his lips and hands to erase the emotions that threatened to drown him. There was nothing romantic about this – and it pissed him off a little to know that there were people out there that thought otherwise, wanting to exploit people like Itachi instead of wanting to protect and help them.

Itachi, being the kind of person that he was, must have mistaken Kisame's silence as some form of rejection, because the slight trembling of his shoulders increased to actual shaking.

"I am so sorry for burdening you like this."

Those whispered words struck Kisame in the chest like a sharpened rock. They were too close to what Itachi spoke after coming home from the hospital the first time, when he was trying to break up with Kisame under the assumption that Kisame would be better off without him, and he felt his heart rate begin to accelerate at the reminder.

_"I don't know what to do…"_

Suddenly, Kisame knew what to do.

With a single warm, loving kiss to Itachi's forehead, Kisame released him and said, "You are _not_ burdening me. Now, stand up and turn around."

Confusion flashed though Itachi's eyes, which were red and swollen, but he did as he was instructed. Itachi gingerly felt the ground with his tiptoes before finding his footing, then climbed out of Kisame's lap to stand facing the altar. Kisame quickly followed suit, standing close enough to wrap his arms around Itachi's waist, hand falling to his belt buckle.

He made quick work of removing the belt, slipping it out of the confines of Itachi's belt loops, before taking hold of Itachi's arms to position them behind his back, folded over one another.

"Kisame, what in the world –" Itachi was cut off by his own surprised gasp when Kisame tightened the belt around his arms to tie them in place and spun him around.

"If you wanna stop," Kisame thrust one of his hands into his pocket to grab his keys, "Drop these on the floor."

Itachi still had no idea what was happening when the jumble of keys and remote lock were placed in his palm but, regardless, he still closed his fist around them to hold them tight and prevent them from clattering to the floor.

"Get on your knees, baby."

That was when it clicked.

" _Here?_ " Itachi's voice was not anywhere near as horrified as he felt at the idea of doing something like this in public place – in a _chapel_ , no less!

A firm hand pushed on his shoulder so that Itachi was forced down to his knees.

"Yes, here."

What in god's name had gotten _into_ him..? Itachi failed to recall a moment when Kisame was so insistent, so pushy, but, as he thought about it, Kisame was already opening up the front of his pants with Itachi sitting on his heels in front of him.

More than a little tentative, Itachi glanced at the door warily, "Kisame if someone were to walk in – _mmf_."

Kisame had pushed his jeans down to his thighs and used Itachi's ponytail as a handle to pull his face to his covered crotch, tugging his hair back and forth to emulate the movement of nuzzling.

He was soft.

"Drop the keys and I'll stop," Kisame reminded in an uncharacteristically stern voice that faltered.

The hand on his head was quivering.

If he was so nervous, then why was Kisame..?

A small smile played on Itachi's lips, and he scooted a little closer so that he could bury his face into Kisame's boxers. There was some movement above him as Kisame hooked his fingertips beneath Itachi's hair tie to slide it off and allow for his hair to fan over his back before he grabbed a large fistful of it, making sure to grab low at the roots, and used his free hand to push his boxers down to bunch over his jeans.

"Good boy," Kisame purred, "Now lick me until I'm hard."

Heat bloomed in Itachi's cheeks at that. He was not, in any conceivable sense known to man, the kind of person that indulged in dirty-talking yet, as he parted his lips to accept the head of Kisame's dick into his mouth, Itachi had to admit that there was something kind of thrilling about the idea of Kisame talking to him like that.

Or, maybe, it was thrilling to know that he didn't have to be in control of the situation right now.

Kisame dropped his head back when Itachi swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock, then pressed it up to the roof of his mouth before letting out a moan that vibrated around the swelling member. "Just like that, baby…"

A power exchange between them was nothing more than an illusion – Itachi knew that he could stop this any time he wanted; Kisame would stop if he just told him a simple no instead of dropping the keys. Still, though, despite the underlying current of terror at the possibility of being caught that percolated through his growing arousal, none of this meant that Itachi _wanted_ to stop. As he got more into the groove of things, spreading his knees for more stability while bobbing his head to engulf another inch of that heated flesh, Itachi found himself pleasantly surprised to notice that he wished Kisame would actually be a little rougher with him.

Kisame sucked in a sharp breath when Itachi suddenly inhaled deep through his nose and relaxed his throat, just a beat before pushing his head down to force Kisame's cock down his throat. There was a proper feeling of pain from being stretched open farther than its usual function dictated, but feeling Kisame shudder at the intense sensation was more than enough to satisfy Itachi.

"Oh, _fuck_ , oh – oh _shit_ – babe – _fuck_ that feels fuckin' _amazing_ –" a long, liquid groan tumbled past his lips when Itachi bobbed back for a breath before taking him back into his throat, bobbing up and down to get further and further down until his nose was buried in the patch of curls that sat at the base of his erection.

Kisame's thighs quivered and his knees buckled a little. He didn't a have any sort of curve but, due to his size, no one – _no one_ – had ever deep-throated him before – especially not all the way. While Itachi's head bounced between his legs Kisame was struggling to keep himself upright when his body would like nothing more than to collapse to the floor and revel in the tight, hot feeling of Itachi's throat.

Without giving it so much as another thought Kisame pulled his head back to give him a moment to breath before using the hold he had on his silky hair to pull him back down, biting back the loud groan that wanted to tear up his throat when his cock squeezed through that narrow passage again. He knew it must be at least mildly uncomfortable for Itachi, who had sealed his pretty lips tight around his shaft, but he wasn't dropping the keys and this just felt so unbelievably incredible for Kisame that he couldn't help but pull back for another rough thrust.

Watching was almost as fantastic as listening to the obscene sucking sounds that came from where they were connected. Itachi's long lashes fluttered over his cheeks, which were smeared with a hot blush that was nearly as dark as his red, swollen lips, and his slender eyebrows were slanted inwards with concentration. Every now and then he would release a quiet moan that was mostly muffled by the cock stuffed down and aggressively fucking his throat, but it was enough to drive Kisame wild.

Just when he thought he might _actually_ fall over, he pulled Itachi back with a wet _pop_ to bring him down to work at his balls, wishing he had a camera to take a picture of the way a clear, viscous string of saliva and precome connected that pretty mouth to his dick; when it broke off to hang down from Itachi's mouth, who had no way of wiping it off with his hands bound, he thought it might pass out.

One of Kisame's hand immediately released Itachi's hair to start shamelessly fisting his erection, the sloppy sounds of Itachi's saliva between his palm and his dick hitting him straight between the legs.

"God, baby," he managed to groan out between the low growls that rumbled up his chest, "You're so fuckin' _good_ at this."

Itachi's lashes fluttered at the praise, moaning softly when Kisame's iron-like grip held him in place so he could roll his hips against his face. As soft praises and idle commands filled the air between them Itachi found himself grinding himself into his own ankle, so desperate for some kind of sensation that just rocking back and forth like this was enough to make him whimper.

Later, much later, he would gape in horror at the situation – at knowing that _this_ is what he chose to do after having such a massive bomb dumped on him, dropping to his knees and letting his boyfriend use his face for his own pleasure.

What he had said earlier was true, though. In this moment, the only thing that made sense, and made him feel secure, was Kisame – and, right, now, Itachi desperately needed the world to make sense to him. If that meant actively enjoying the idea of simply doing what he was told, instead of being the one that has to make decisions, then so be it. Itachi had no need, nor did he have any desire, to make an attempt at maintaining whatever calm and composed idea the world had of him when he was alone with Kisame like this.

And the fact that Kisame was willing to cast aside his own internalized fear of hurting him to do this for Itachi was not unappreciated.

His chest swelled at the thought, and his gaze rose to meet his own impassioned one just in time for Kisame to pull his head back from where he was tracing a rather intricate pattern into his scrotum with the tip of his tongue.

Instinctively he opened his mouth wider, assuming Kisame wanted to continue ravaging his throat, and reached his tongue out to press it against the frenulum beneath its engorged head. Kisame's surprised gasp preceded his eyes rolling back with a low groan, and a shudder rolled through his muscled body. Though there were no thick, white ribbons spurting forth to tell him so Itachi recognized the look on his face and quickly rocked forward off of his heels to wrap his lips around Kisame's erection, a satisfied pulse running through his when Kisame clamped his soiled hand over his mouth to keep from shouting. Itachi kept his lips in a tight o as he sucked, hard, to help Kisame ride through his orgasm.

When he finally fluttered down from his high Kisame shed his sweater, carefully bunching it up before dropping it onto the floor. Itachi had no time to question the motion – he was immediately pulled back so that he was lying down with his head pillowed in the sweater, rather than lying on the hard carpet floor.

Including the time it took for Kisame to fumble with opening the three buttons of his skinny jeans, it took all of a minute and thirty seconds for Itachi to be brought to his own climax by Kisame's mouth.

It took several minutes before either of them were capable of speech. Until then, they managed to crawl into one of the pews for Itachi to rest his head in Kisame's lap, who idly stroked his hair.

"Thank you," Itachi finally croaked, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded silently. That had been exactly what Itachi needed – the piano let him break himself apart, and Kisame put him back together and took away the responsibility of decision-making long enough for his head to clear.

"That… Kinda scared the hell outta me," Kisame gave him a sheepish look, "I was just trying to copy what Zabuza does with Haku when he's stressing, but didn't want to do something wrong..."

Recalling the feeling of Kisame's hand trembling, and his flaccid penis on his mouth, Itachi felt a twinge of guilt as he pushed himself up so that he was high enough to press their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss.

"Do not doubt yourself, Kisame," he murmured. Itachi would not ever, _ever_ , request that Kisame do something he was uncomfortable with, but it didn't sit well to with him to hear that Kisame was still afraid of hurting him, or triggering a panic attack.

Kisame's eyes searched his for a minute longer before he eased into his boyish grin, tugging Itachi into a strong embrace. An embarrassed, "Love you," was mumbled into his shoulder.

"I sure hope so," Itachi responded dismissively, "I am most certain that this has made me a permanent resident of Hell." This was it. When Itachi died, this would be the moment Saint Peter would look back on before condemning him.

Kisame laughed, "I can't argue that."

They shared a round of lighthearted laughter, touching their foreheads together and reveling in one another's presence. That smile was something Itachi felt like he could float in forever - it was so endlessly bright, so full of warmth…

Eventually they quieted down and, as much as Itachi wanted to stay in Kisame's arms for the rest of eternity, he had something pressing to attend to.

"I need to talk to Sasuke," he finally sighed.

Kisame… Did not envy him in this moment. "You gonna be okay?"

Itachi thought for a moment. Truth be told… He wasn't dreading talking to Sasuke like he normally would. Now that the initial shock and feelings of emotional tumult overwhelming him had worn off, Itachi… Couldn't find a reason to feel upset.

He sat back on his heels to stare at the floor thoughtfully.

"Today, I found out that someone I love very much is my little brother, and I have an entire family to introduce him to when he's ready," Itachi's tone was almost conversational, "How can I be anything other than alright with that?"

"I'll go home, then," Kisame leaned in to kiss his cheek, "If you need _anything_ , just shoot me a text."

Itachi stayed long enough to watch him leave, feeling an unwelcomed emptiness when the heavy door to the chapel shut behind him. He thought back to what Kisame said about retiring, wondering if they really would be able to sort things out so that they could stay together.

If Itachi felt this lonely just from having Kisame gone for a few hours, he could not imagine what it would feel like to have him out of his life completely...

Ah, dammit, he was making himself all sad for nothing. Itachi quickly fixed his hair as best as he could, tying it into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, before taking a deep breath and leaving the room.

* * *

Sasuke was watching a marathon of The Walking Dead when Itachi stepped through the door of his room, making a face at the unsightly gore.

Being a fan of Japanese horror, himself, Itachi couldn't really blame him for grimacing at the death scene; AMC really went ham on the visual effects.

"Nii-san, have you heard from Doctor Senju, yet?"

A fond smile crossed his face as he met Sasuke's gaze. He took a moment to look into his eyes, which shone a little brighter than normal with the afternoon sun streaming in through the window and illuminating them.

Their mother's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I dunno if strangers can be an absolute perfect match or not but, from the research I've done, I'm assuming no. Yolo.


	19. Chapter 18

It was bright.

"Hey, you."

The nurse patted his leg.

Sasuke hurt.

"How are you feeling?"

He hurt all over.

With a kind smile, the nurse waved over at someone outside of Sasuke's field of vision, which was blurred from sleep.

The nurse cooed something else that was lost on him.

"N… Nii-san…" Sasuke's tongue felt leaden in his mouth.

"Good morning, Sasuke!" the blonde doctor – Doctor Senju? – appeared, "How ya doin', kid?"

"Where's… Itachi – where's Itachi..?" he managed to mumble. Slowly, he turned his head to get a look at the bed next to him, only to discover that his view was blocked by a blue linen curtain.

Tsunade's smile expanded to the point where her eyes slid shut and the skin around them crinkled. "He was admitted to a room a few hours ago. The surgery was a complete success!"

For some reason, probably from the heavy pain relievers circulating through his system, her words didn't sink in with Sasuke. Ignoring her completely, he frowned and fought against the pain and heaviness in his body to push himself up. "Itachi…"

"Is alright," Tsuande tried to assure him, placing a hand on his chest to gently guide him back down, "You don't have to worry."

"But…" Sasuke frowned and squinted, both to shield his eyes from the blinding fluorescents above him and to concentrate against the fogginess in his head. He needed… He needed Itachi. He needed to see him. Why wasn't he there with him?

Next to him, the heart rate monitor began to beep a little more rapidly.

If Itachi wasn't with him – that – that meant that something was wrong.

_Something was wrong._

The nurse pried one of his hands from the gurney rail to hold it in her own, but Sasuke ripped out of her grip. Dammit! Where was he?!

"Sasuke, everyone responds to major surgery differently," Tsunade's voice sounded far away, even though she was standing less than a foot away from his head, "It's making you panic. Itachi is alright. The operation went smoothly for both of you, and he's resting in his room."

Then why wasn't he with him?!

Someone said something, and then the nurse disappeared.

A warm tear slipped from the corner of Sasuke's eye.

This wasn't fair.

He had only just gotten a family - even if it was just Itachi, it was a real family that _loved_ him.

He gave up his kidney for him.

And he _died_ , didn't he?

Sasuke made another attempt at pushing himself up. He needed to get out of here. He had to find Itachi.

Oh, god, he loved him so much. He _needed_ him – he needed him _right now._

A sob wrenched its way through his throat as another tear rolled down his cheek.

Where was he? _Where was he?!_

"Hey, champ."

That voice…

With the nurse in tow, Kisame approached his hospital bed.

He wasn't smiling.

Why?

Kisame _always_ smiled.

"Nii-san…"

A heavy hand came down on one of his slim shoulders, which trembled with the rest of his body. Jesus fucking Christ, it weighed a _ton_. Without even meaning to, Sasuke slumped back into the thin mattress.

"Itachi's fine, kiddo," he crooned, "He woke up about an hour ago. He's already had a little bit of food."

Sasuke screwed his teary eyes shut as his head began to clear enough for him to mutter, "Why… Why are you..?"

That subdued, kind smile that Kisame always had for Itachi returned. "He didn't want ya to wake up alone, so I've been in the waiting room."

Sasuke never really liked Kisame all that much. He was loud and boisterous – a total bro type. His personality clashed with Sasuke's and Itachi's, and he couldn't figure out why Itachi was so into this guy.

Now… He kind of got it.

Kisame was still annoying, but he felt… Safe. There was something about him that loosened the knot in his chest.

And, maybe, he had a nice smile.

"He acted the same way, you know," Kisame's grin became lopsided, and he started to rub rhythmic circles into his shoulder with his thumb, "Woke up all cryin' and angry. He's a bitch when he wakes up on a good day but, goddamn, I thought he was gonna _kill_ me."

Sasuke shot him a glare. "Don't fucking talk about him like that."

While it was meant to sound threatening, Kisame barked out a laugh and had to cover his mouth when Tsunade snapped at him for being noisy. "Of course, _that'd_ be the first full sentence you say after waking up."

Tsunade finished scribbling on a clipboard and hung it off of the end of the bed. "He actually woke up a few minutes after the transplant," she corrected, "This is just the first time he's been aware of his surroundings."

Kisame shrugged as she walked away. "They said you can have food when they move you into a normal room. Is there anything you want? I'm gonna run out and get Itachi something, soon."

He was so goddamn nice.

Sasuke looked back up at the ceiling. He didn't want to ask Kisame for anything – he didn't want to ask anyone for anything.

"That soup dumplings place is nearby –" Kisame cut himself off when Sasuke's stomach growled audibly, then laughed again. "Alrighty, then."

As quickly as the fogginess in his head had dissipated, it returned, coaxed by the gentle massaging of his shoulder from Kisame.

"Sleep tight, champ," Sasuke heard him whisper, "Happy birthday."

* * *

"Babe, you _gotta_ be shittin' me."

Itachi glanced up from the laptop resting on his thighs to offer a mildly annoyed expression, saying, "You truly believe that the capital S should be the industry standard?" His tone was admittedly condescending, but it was difficult to feel bad about it when his boyfriend was making such a fuss.

"You're telling me it _shouldn't_?" Kisame asked almost incredulously around a mouthful of popcorn. The fricative of the _sh_ resulted in a light shower of butter-coated bits over his thighs, which were naked due to the fact that everyone but them being out of the house apparently meant that he should run around in his boxers, leaving a very unattractive white smattering across that dark skin.

With a sigh, Itachi closed the computer and slowly leaned over to set it on the floor, careful to not disturb the stitches over his left flank.

"Okay, so, tell me… How do you write the word 'email'?"

Kisame narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "With a little M, obviously," he drawled, wiping at the mess he had made, "But you spell 'eBay' with a capital B."

"That is because eBay is a brand, Kisame. Esports is not a brand."

"What about eShop? That's a big S."

Itachi opened his mouth to ask what he was even talking about, only for his jaw to snap shut and his eyebrows to draw inwards to a point. "You mean the Nintendo eShop? The _brand_?"

The way Kisame almost pouted in response told him that he knew that, but didn't expect Itachi to.

This conversation, if you could even call it that, was fifteen minutes in the running thanks to an offhanded comment Itachi had made about another organization rebranding themselves with a lowercase S. Ever the hot-button topic for the competitive gaming industry, Itachi soon found himself knee-deep in a conversation about a topic he cared very little about on a _good_ day – never mind six days after surgery, when he was sore and constantly exhausted.

"Wikipedia uses a big S," Kisame defended, "Wikipedia can't be wrong. It's _Wikipedia_."

Itachi frowned, "I do not believe that."

"I'm serious!" Kisame reached for his phone on the coffee table, allowing a minute of silence as he tapped around on the screen. After a few moments of waiting, Itachi took the phone from him when it was handed over.

When his frown deepened, Kisame erupted into booming laughter that caused Itachi to recoil violently enough for his wound to ache in protest.

"Wikipedia is wrong," he muttered flatly.

Maybe Itachi cared a little more than he was willing to let on.

This only made Kisame laugh harder, which was when he then choked on a saliva-soaked glob of popcorn that he tried to swallow at the same time.

Itachi sniffed, "You are obnoxious."

"You're a sore loser! And I still need to get you that swear jar!"

"Not if you ever plan on your penis becoming fully acquainted with my body, you don't," he sang, examining his nails with detached interest.

Kisame snorted, "As if." When Itachi looked up from his hand, he wore that lopsided smirk that made his eyes crinkle just enough for Itachi's spitefully weak-willed heart to flutter. He gestured at himself, moving his hands up and down at his body, "Babe. C'mon."

Itachi raised a slender eyebrow, "Pardon me?"

Another gesture, and Kisame chuckled. "Like you'd give this up."

Heat flared in his cheeks, and Itachi momentarily considered sacrificing his American Horror Story marathon to fling the television remote at his boyfriend's face. The final verdict ended up being that it wouldn't be worth it, because Kisame liked _really_ shitty TV and Itachi was _rather_ attracted to his face.

So, instead of resorting to violence and savagely beating Kisame with a remote, he merely rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, which hung loosely around his shoulders for a change.

"Babe?"

Silence.

Kisame huffed a little, " _Baaaabe_."

Itachi kept his eyes fixated on Evan Peters and Emma Roberts's characters discuss running away from the freak show.

Instead of continuing to playfully whine to get his attention as he expected, however, Kisame took the cold shoulder as an invitation to lean over on the sofa. At first he thought that Kisame was just reaching for the remote to spite him but, Itachi realized too late that his plans were much more nefarious.

"Kis -!" Itachi had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of something warm and wet rolling over his ear.

Kisame hummed questioningly, teasingly, and the close proximity of that deep voice sent a shiver racing down Itachi's spine. His tongue licked another stripe along the shell of Itachi's ear, and Itachi could feel Kisame's lips curl upwards into that familiar predatory grin. Every inch of Itachi's skin broke out into goosebumps. Neatly trimmed fingernails bit into the seat cushions at the sensation of Kisame's tongue plunging into his ear, when he sighed so his hot, warm breath passed over it in a loud rush.

It took every ounce of his willpower to scrape his brain off of the floor from where it had melted out his ears but, after some moments of struggling and hitched gasps, Itachi snatched up the wrist that was creeping up his thigh.

"I can't give you what you want right now," he managed thanks to Kisame freezing in place in response to being stopped.

In a total contrast to the sensual movement from mere seconds earlier, Kisame's hand started to move again in a slow, soothing up-and-down motion. "Is everything okay?" he asked, genuine concern leaking into his voice.

Itachi nodded and let his own hand fall to his thigh. "I'm just in too much pain to move right now." That, and he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

What he wouldn't give to be thrown down to the floor and rutted like an animal, though...

Kisame gave him something of a pitying look. "Want me to get your meds?"

"I don't want to take pills," Itachi responded a tad sharply, which effectively killed both of their boners. He didn't want to have to rely on vicodin to get him through every day, both because they were dangerously addictive and because Itachi refused to admit that he needed anything.

Thanks to nearly a week of dealing with a sleepy, sore, grumpy Itachi that tried to spite medical science by going against the doctor's orders, Kisame was unphased by the response. He pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's temple and used his free hand to comb through his long hair with a quiet sigh, as if wanting to insist that Itachi take his pain medication but knowing that there'd be no point in insisting.

"Do you at least wanna sleep a bit?"

To be quite frank, _no_ , Itachi did _not_ want to take another nap. His entire recovery so far was spent with him passed out in bed – waking up only long enough for a few mouthfuls of okayu, which was about all he had the energy for – and Itachi was sick of spending his days being so lazy and useless.

But, for as much of a horse's ass he was about the Vicodin, Itachi couldn't fight the heaviness of his eyelids for much longer. His entire body felt like it was little more than a sandbag that had been drenched with rain water, but his eyes were like automatic shutters that didn't give a damn about what he wanted.

Eventually, he sagged into the couch cushions, looking every bit as defeated as he felt.

"I don't think I can make it up the stairs," Itachi mumbled. His body hurt too much, and he simply didn't have the drive to drag himself across the massive team house and climb an entire flight of stairs, which may as well be Mount Everest in his current condition.

"Nii-san?"

Itachi craned his neck to peer over the back of the couch, "Sasuke, you should be in bed."

Sasuke, who looked almost as miserable as Itachi, rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his wrist.

"So should you…" he mumbled, clearly still half-asleep.

This wasn't the first time the teenager had woken up and gone off in search of him, so Itachi couldn't say that he was exactly surprised to see him shuffling up to where he was sitting while looking like he might collapse at any moment.

It hurt to see Sasuke like this, it really did. He had lost so much weight while sick, fifteen pounds in just a couple of weeks from vomiting and being too exhausted to sleep, and still had a pallid complexion despite some color having returned to his cheeks. The dark bruises of sleep-deprivation that told of continued restless sleep under his eyes were the cherry on top of the picture of misery Sasuke's appearance presented.

Sasuke reached out to curl his finger around a lock of Itachi's hair. He didn't twirl it or try to play with it like Kisame always did but, rather, he was seemingly using it as a way to keep himself connected to him.

This, also, wasn't the first time he had done something like this.

Sasuke had become quite… Clingy over the last week. It was understandable – Itachi was by no means complaining – but it seemed like Sasuke felt like, if Itachi left his sight, he would be gone forever. He rarely let himself drift more than a few steps away from Itachi, and was always reaching for him in some way, either by pinching the fabric of his shirt or by touching the very ends of his hair.

"Do you need something?" Itachi asked, gingerly pushing himself up off of the cushions into a standing position.

Almost pouting, Sasuke shook his head and scuffled a little closer.

Itachi put a hand in the middle of his back, careful to avoid areas he knew were tender, and started to guide him back the way he came. "Let's go back to bed, then."

Even with the assistance of Kisame who, thankfully, was probably strong enough to carry both of them at the same time, the journey to getting back to bed was a long and arduous one that one could compare to Frodo Baggins' journey to Mount Doom. It involved a lot of groans and pausing to catch their breaths, and climbing back into bed wasn't much easier when the movement of folding your leg up pulled on exactly where twenty stitches lined your flank.

The struggle ended up being worth it, though, when the fluffy pillow-top mattress immediately hugged the subtle curves of Itachi's body through the soft flannel sheets. Just as Sasuke slipped his arms around one of Itachi's, hugging it to his chest possessively, he managed to pull the fluffy down duvet over both of their shoulders so that it was tucked up to their chins.

Itachi tilted his head to rest against Sasuke's on the pillow, wishing he was well enough to actually hold his baby brother as he slept, to assure him that he wasn't going anywhere, but this was the most that he could provide in their current states.

Dimly, he was aware of Kisame kissing his forehead before the lights turned off and the quiet click of the door shutting could be heard but, before it could even register with him, he was falling back to sleep.

* * *

_'It it with my most deepest regret to inform you all that Sound Four will be closing its doors._

_I started this team earlier this year with the intentions of creating a world-class team that would be able to revolutionize the industry but, after months of failed attempts at taking even one victory, it soon became clear that…'_

Itachi's eyes scrolled down the page. He wasn't sure if he was genuinely surprised that Orochimaru was making it out to be like his team falling apart was his players' fault, or if he was just that exasperated with the man. He backed out of the press release without finishing it, to the report made by ESPN that was the first to expose him for his poor treatment of his players. According to anonymous sources, which ended up being confirmed an hour later to be Tayuya, the team house was in condemnable conditions, none of the players were getting paid, and they were being forced to skip meals to practice.

Imagine that.

Itachi turned his gaze back down to Sasuke, who became the center of attention when the news broke thanks to Tayuya explicitly stating that their dingy house was what landed him in the hospital. He had been ignoring social media for the most part, only texting a couple of people every now and then to barely keep a conversation going.

Well, at least the publishers were getting involved now. If Orochimaru didn't start delivering on his contractual obligations, Itachi knew they were prepared to step in with some ridiculously expensive lawyers.

"Nii-san?"

Sasuke had put down the game controller he was using to play Resident Evil 0 but made no effort to turn his face away from the pause screen.

"Can I…" his face scrunched up a little, and he paused for a moment as if contemplating backing out of whatever he had started, "Can I ask you something?"

Closing the laptop to show that he had Itachi's attention, the elder of the two wondered why he even felt the need to ask for permission by this point. "Of course."

Sasuke looked so uncomfortable that it appeared as if he was in legitimate pain, but not from the incisions made to his abdomen a week prior. Unlike Itachi, Sasuke was healing well enough for him to know that he was only hanging around indoors because Itachi was there.

"You said that… At the hospital, I mean…" Sasuke hung his head so his bangs would cloak his face, and he tightened his fingers around the black controller, "You… You were a prostitute..?"

Ah. Well, now Itachi understood the level of discomfort that Sasuke was feeling.

"I was," he answered calmly, not wanting to make things worse by giving the impression that he was upset by the topic cropping up. When Sasuke cringed a little, he asked, "Does that bother you?"

"Of course it fucking does!"

Itachi bit his lip and clenched his fists to keep himself as stoic as he could manage. He expected that some he may tell would find the idea revolting, but Itachi would be lying if he didn't admit that hearing Sasuke say it so fervently didn't feel like he had been punched in the gut.

It must not have worked well because, when Sasuke tilted his head just enough to peek through a gap in his hair, he suddenly looked angry at something and looked back down at his hands.

"No – I didn't mean -!" he released a harsh breath through his nose and screwed his eyes shut, "I mean, didn't you have other options?!"

"I tried, Sasuke, but it wasn't that simple."

"How wasn't it that simple?! Shisui was the one that got you into esports, right? Why didn't you just join him?!"

Itachi was used to Sasuke's brash personality, but he wasn't used to him blatantly attacking him like this. His teeth sank hard enough into his bottom lip for Itachi to taste blood as his eyes dropped to the floor, feeling too ashamed to keep them on his brother.

"I had no high school diploma, no useful skills to speak of other than multilingualism, and I never cared for video games so I had no knowledge of Shippuden's competitive scene," Itachi ran a hand through his hair that trembled against the calmness of his voice, "Working in a brothel demanded little more than a well-maintained appearance and feigned charm while providing enough income to get me through the week."

"But what if you caught something – shit, you at least used _condoms_ , right?"

"There was a mandatory protection rule instated." Itachi's voice was beginning to lose its steadiness. Both of his elbows drew inwards in a subconscious manner of shielding himself, and his shoulders slumped.

When they were just teammates, Itachi would not have even blinked an eye when Sasuke started getting angry and started to yell, even when he would lob insults. Maybe it's because he knew that he was never really upset with him, he was just upset in general and Itachi was merely the one within shouting distance back then. In this moment, it really did feel like Sasuke was directly angry with him for not trying harder to find other employment options.

It hurt.

"Was… Was it bad?" After a long silence, the agitation had fled Sasuke's voice, which was considerably softer than before. "No one ever hurt you, did they..?"

Itachi paused long enough to process what he was asking.

He wasn't upset because he was disgusted; he was upset because he was _worried_ for Itachi.

God dammit, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be the strong, fearless big brother, not the older big brother that goes from completely calm to being consumed with self-loathing on the spin of a dime.

Itachi rubbed his face a couple of times and told himself that he was just emotional from the trauma of surgery, like so many others before him.

"It was not glamorous, thought it was not as if I was locked in a grungy sex dungeon," he explained once he centered himself and managed to push his negativity back into the dark corner of his brain where it belonged, "Although there were times where it was dehumanizing and unpleasant," Itachi decided to not get into the stories he could tell about clients that did not have any patience for his human limitations, "For the most part, I was treated kindly by customers."

Sasuke nodded in understanding, still staring at the game controller in his lap. The wringing of his hands told Itachi that there was more he wanted to say, more questions that swirled around his mind, but it was clear that he was too anxious to ask them. Considering what all was said that day, Itachi could hardly blame him.

Itachi pushed himself up off of where he was sitting next to the power outlet on the floor to walk over to the bed, wincing a little when a careless movement tugged on his stitches. Sasuke's eyes flitted up when he lowered himself on the bed next to him but made no attempt at moving or flinching away when Itachi gently tugged one of his hands away before Sasuke could accidentally break his own fingers.

"Talk to me, little brother."

"Was… Was the other thing you said –" Sasuke's fingers twitched in Itachi's, "What happened with… The…"

Itachi used his free hand to stroke the back of Sasuke's hand, "The rape."

Sasuke curled in on himself, making a small sound in the back of his throat before nodding awkwardly.

"Was that why you tried to kill yourself?"

"It was my breaking point, yes," he answered honestly, resting his cheek on the top of Sasuke's head, "I tried to mutilate myself to distract myself but, one night, I decided that I was too exhausted with being hurt by people I trusted."

"Was… Was it close?"

"The medics said that if Shisui didn't walk in when he did then I would have bled out just a few minutes later."

Sasuke's other hand came up to squeeze his forearm, and he scooted closer until they were sitting hip-to-hip. "Is that why were you hospitalized last year?"

"It was."

"I can't believe I gotta thank that asswipe for something."

Itachi snorted and rolled his eyes, "Don't make me wash your mouth out with soap."

Sasuke laughed, "I'll need it to get the taste out of my mouth after thanking Shisui for something."

They shared a moment of bubbling laughter, rocking back and forth and holding on to one another. It was a pleasant change of pace from the constant stress and heartache that plagued their lives for the last couple of weeks, and Itachi felt a lightness in his chest that he only ever felt when Kisame was around.

Itachi recognized the feeling as happiness.

Both of his arms came up to wrap around Sasuke's shoulders to pull him into his chest. He buried his nose in his hair, noting with a smile that he was starting to smell Itachi's stash of tea in the kitchen cupboard.

A smile graced his lips. They really were brothers.

"Sasuke, I need to talk to you about something," he murmured.

Sasuke rested his forehead against his neck, "Hmm?"

Itachi hugged him a little tighter as his stomach fluttered nervously.

"Would you like to meet the rest of your family?"

The muscles in Sasuke's body stiffened. "Fuck no."

"Sasuke –"

"They threw me away because they didn't _want_ me!" Sasuke jerked out of his embrace to glare at Itachi, "They threw _you_ away for being gay! I don't want those assholes – we're family enough without them!"

The outburst should have startled him, but Itachi's smile only widened as he chuckled and reaching out to tuck Sasuke's bangs back behind one of his ears.

"I am not talking about our parents, silly boy," he clarified, "Our family in Gujo reached out to me after the Orlando shooting. They cut ties with mom and dad when they found out why I was disowned, and they had no idea that mom was ever pregnant with you."

It was a surprisingly easy Skype call to get through, one that had Itachi up until seven in the morning talking with his cousins – it was the first time Itachi had ever really gushed about a boyfriend, and he found himself apologizing several times for always bringing him up in their conversation. Not like they were upset about it; Naori insisted that Kisame join the call next time.

"It is completely your decision," Itachi continued, "But I would like to visit them during the off-season, and you are more than welcome to accompany me. I can pay for your plane ticket, and you won't have to concern yourself with lodging –"

"No."

Itachi blinked in surprise. "Oh, well, that's alright –"

"I mean I don't want you to pay my way," Sasuke rolled his eyes, "God damn, of course I wanna go!"

"You do?"

"Hell yeah!" Sasuke's entire demeanor had lit up, his smile wide and toothy and his eyes practically glittering, "Can we visit some of the temples while we're there?"

"Y-"

"And castles?"

"Of –"

"And I wanna see the God deer in Yahiko –"

" _Sasuke_ ," Itachi reached out to cup his jaw with a smile of his own, "We'll do whatever you want."

Sasuke beamed.

Itachi leaned in to peck his forehead, "I am going to take a nap. Wake me up by four so I can get started on dinner."

* * *

Itachi could remember the first moment he put a jersey on his back.

He remembered immediately thinking that the fabric had felt uncomfortable against his skin, the sweat-wicking material soft like silk, yet somehow still coarse. It was strange to him that a professional gamer would need to wear a genuine jersey. It wasn't as if they were sweating profusely on stage, right? Why would they need to wear this?

When he turned around to view himself in the mirror, though, there was an indescribable sense of pride that bloomed in his chest.

Itachi had never been a part of anything. In high school he was something of an outcast, more focused on his studies and piano than socializing with anyone other than Shisui and the one man that happened to catch his eye. He never joined a club, or a team, and only attended church out of obligation to his parents.

For as much as he disliked Shippuden, and didn't care for video games in general, the feeling of camaraderie was undeniable. He was a part of something that was bigger than himself, and he was working towards a goal that he shared with other people.

Maybe that was why Itachi stayed in the scene for so long.

As years went by, Itachi was able to save up enough to attend college. He could have dropped out of competitive gaming to pursue a more stable and fulfilling career.

Why didn't he?

Shisui always played a factor. Itachi had no desire to leave Shisui on his own, both for his own selfish reasons and because he knew that Shisui would want his childhood friend with him. Itachi could hardly recall a moment where he made a decision without taking into account how it might affect him – even suggesting that a sponsor include Shisui in their campaign with him.

Maybe it was because professional gaming provided him with direction, too. Shippuden had very clear goals set for every player, both short-term and long-term. They would compete in qualifiers, make it to majors, then use those majors to secure a seed for the world championship. Itachi made it to Worlds twice in his career, but never made it past the quarter finals. Ironically, three years prior, it was Kisame's team, Seven Swords, that bumped him and Shisui out of the competition.

Back then, Itachi could have never imagined himself in this position, having dinner with a former member of a rival team.

Having dinner with a man that loved him this much.

Having a baby brother.

The corners of Itachi's lips quirked upwards. He used his spoon to carve away a bite of the molten chocolate cake Kisame insisted on ordering for dessert, making sure to snag a bit of the toasted marshmallow on top.

"Fuck, baby, are you trying to kill me?"

Itachi's gaze lifted from the plate between them, "Pardon?"

Kisame's eyes were murky. "If you're gonna lick something like that, at least do it in private."

With a quick roll of his eyes, Itachi finished licking the gooey marshmallow to scoop another piece of cake into his mouth. "You are obscene."

"I'm not the one making love to a spoon."

Itachi kicked his leg underneath the table with the intention of breaking one of his boyfriend's ankles, only to miss and end up kicking the base of the maroon-colored booth. Of course, Kisame laughed at him and captured his foot between his calves to hold it hostage until Itachi nearly slipped out of the booth trying to wriggle his way free. Their noisy scuffle, however brief it may have been, earned them the ire of nearby patrons, who made sure to scowl disapprovingly at the pair out of the corners of their eyes.

In the past he would have hung his head in shame, but Itachi was grinning ear to ear by the time he readjusted himself, diving back in for another bite of the lava cake. He even made a show of licking away some of the chocolate sauce from where it clung to his bottom lip, giggling when Kisame complained about how unfair he was being.

"I think I liked you better when you were shy," he joked, downing the last of his water, "At least when you were making me pop boners in public, it wasn't on purpose."

Itachi smirked around his spoon, "I haven't the faintest idea as to what you are talking about. I am only trying to eat my cake."

Kisame's eyes flashed, "I've got a cake for you to eat."

Itachi snorted and had to reach for his tea to keep himself from choking. Unsurprisingly, Kisame looked as smug as can be while watching his partner sputter and cough, both out of surprise and embarrassment.

What an impenitently lascivious man.

Fortunately, it seemed that those around them did not hear his alluding to receiving analingus, so Itachi didn't have to worry about dying of shame as they polished off the last of their dessert. Kisame mentioned something about how he was going to be paying for all of the sugar later, but was still all smiles as they left the waiter's tip on the table before heading out.

As soon as they stepped out Kisame hissed against the chilly air, the result of a spontaneous cold front that came in from Canada. The arm he had wrapped around Itachi's waist tightened, who was suddenly glad that Kisame lacked the foresight to bring a sweater with him as he was pressed up against that hard, muscular body.

"That's it, I'm moving back to Tonga," Kisame grumbled while they crossed the parking lot to where his Charger was, "I'll take homophobia and shitty wifi over freezing to death."

Itachi tried to not make it too obvious that he was reveling in Kisame's body as they walked, only subtly inhaling that clean, spicy scent from his body wash that still lingered on his skin. "Genital mutilation _and_ homophobia? You really know how to sell your culture, Kisame."

Kisame grunted and pulled him tighter, though it was obviously out of discomfort and not offense taken by the offhanded remark. "How are you not fuckin' freezing? It's, like, twenty degrees."

They reached the car, which Kisame turned his back to in order to lean against it, letting Itachi shift in his arms so that their stomachs and hips were fitted together. Itachi relaxed into the embrace and snaked his arms around Kisame's thick waist, his cheek resting on that broad chest.

"I can assure you that it is no less than fifty degrees," he stated, listening as much as feeling the steady beat of Kisame's heart against his face, "This is the kind of weather one would wear shorts and a t-shirt in if we were in Ohio."

"Well excuse me for not being raised with polar bears."

Itachi smiled contentedly and snuggled closer until he was convinced that there was no space left between them whatsoever. It was a little brisk out, so he would take whatever excuse he could use for extra cuddles.

It seemed like a natural response by this point, but one of Kisame's hands drifted down from his shoulders to rub at the tender spot next to his right shoulder blade, idly kneading at the muscle cluster that never seemed to go away for longer than a week or two.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, lips moving against the top of Itachi's hair.

Itachi nodded. The worst of the soreness and exhaustion had subsided in the last couple of weeks since the operation, so there was mostly a dull ache that pulsated angrily whenever Itachi twisted the wrong way or moved too quickly. Mostly, though, it was just tight.

"Have you thought about what you want to do when you retire?"

Kisame hummed thoughtfully for a moment, which made his chest vibrate a little. "I'm thinking of renewing my license and joining a practice. I talked to the people back home, but they're full so I'll need to look somewhere else." He leaned back a tad, just far enough to coax Itachi into looking at him. "I wanna stay with you, if that's what you're asking."

A small smile tugged at Itachi's lips, and he stood on his tiptoes for a quick kiss. "I have just been thinking, lately."

"About?"

Itachi sighed and released Kisame's waist so he could rest his palms on his chest, setting his chin over his sternum. "Retiring after Worlds."

Those perfect, blue eyes widened, "Wait, really?"

"This life holds nothing for me," Itachi shrugged, "I joined esports as a means of escape. I only continued for Shisui, then to pay my hospital bills." He hated being paraded around like a pedigree Afghan Hound at the Westminister Kennel Club Dog Show, and he was not interested in the promotional work and brand ambassador work that was required of them by their sponsors. Not to mention, he was tired of living with upwards of six roommates at a time.

"What about Sasuke?"

"I have no intention of separating myself from him," Itachi frowned at the thought, "I would simply like to do more with myself."

Kisame strained his neck to kiss his forehead, the hand kneading the muscles in his back smoothed over his shoulder to hold him tight.

"Do…" he clenched his teeth hard enough for the muscles over his jaw to flex, and an electric jolt of adrenaline raced down to his fingers and toes. Kisame almost was afraid to ask.

"Do I fit anywhere in that picture?"

Kisame knew how important the concept of family was to Itachi – he saw that when Itachi came home and told him that his cousins in Japan had contacted him, and he saw it again when he found out that Sasuke was his little brother. Itachi and Sasuke both worshipped each other, so it would make sense that they would want to start a new life together; it made even more sense that they would want to start that new life with their extended family.

As legitimately painful as it was to even imagine the idea, Kisame couldn't find it within himself to blame Itachi if he wanted to go to his family.

He closed his eyes, feeling his heart quicken. Waiting for the crash.

Itachi was silent for an excruciatingly long while, which was doing nothing for Kisame's nerves. Was he mulling it over? Was he trying to find a way to break the news to him without hurting him? Kisame wouldn't put it past him to take his feelings into consideration, but that didn't mean that he wanted him to; this should be a decision that Itachi wants for himself.

"I do not feel that it would be in our best interests to live with one another," Itachi turned his head so that his cheek was back to resting on Kisame's chest, "I rely on you too much, right now. I would like to spend a year or two learned to grow on my own."

Kisame let his head fall back and took a slow, deep breath through his nose, holding it in his swelled chest for a moment before releasing it in a long whoosh. It did nothing to fix the feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach.

"It would be a good idea for us to spend some time apart for us, as well. We have been a constant presence in each others' lives – we need to know what it feels like to miss each other."

So, what, he wanted a break? A long-distance relationship? A total break up?

Shit – Kisame would do a lot of things for Itachi. He'd give him space if he needed it, but he wasn't okay with where this was going. He told Itachi in the locker room that his anxiety skyrocketed when he didn't have the reassurance that came with being able to physically touch the person he cared about –

"Kisame, you are shaking."

Kisame swallowed dryly around the lump in his throat. "I know."

"Are you that cold?"

Honestly, he wasn't feeling much of anything in that moment that wasn't the hollowness in his gut. Kisame shook his head but tightened his arms around Itachi's shoulders.

Itachi's freezing popsicle fingers dipped under the hem of his shirt to smooth over his belly. "You don't think I am planning on breaking up with you, do you?" When Kisame didn't answer, he sighed and removed his hands to slide them up over his shoulders, which forced Kisame's to fall to his waist. "Kisame, I would very much like to see you as frequently as our schedules will allow," he crooned around kisses he fluttered along his sternocleidomastoid, "I would merely like to live life on my own for a while before…" He paused, suddenly unsure of himself.

Kisame finally looked down at him.

"Before what?"

Itachi felt his stomach flutter at the familiar, yet still overpowering, intensity in his eyes.

"Baby…"

If they spent forever together, would he ever become used to being looked at like that?

"Do you wanna get married?"

He raised a slender brow, "Are you proposing in a Chili's parking lot?"

Itachi wasn't sure where he was drawing the confidence to deliver sardonic jests, given that his stomach was twisting itself into knots beneath Kisame's gaze, and his heart felt as if it was about to burst, but he didn't bother with questioning it.

A nervous smile pulled at Kisame's lips. "I mean, I can be… If you want me to…"

Itachi bit at his own smiling lips. "This is hardly romantic."

"I can wait, if you want," Kisame offered with a laugh.

"Don't you think it is a tad late for that, chief?"

They both laughed, cheeks an appropriate shade of pink under street lamps that were too dim for either of them to see. They pulled each other close and turned their faces towards one another so that their noses brushed.

"Itachi…" Kisame screwed his eyes shut against the butterflies in his stomach and laughed, squeezing his thick arms around Itachi's waist, who flinched and yipped when too much pressure was applied to his still-healing wound. "Oh, shit, baby, I'm sorry –"

Itachi recovered quickly and chuckled, silencing him with a kiss. "Kisame, you are doing a wonderful job of making this a truly magical moment."

Kisame didn't even feel bad. He ground their foreheads together, finding it nearly impossible to stop beaming. "Shut the hell up, Christ. You're so difficult."

Itachi didn't answer – or, rather, he couldn't, not with the way his lips seemed to be permanently stretched into a broad smile.

"Itachi, baby, will you marry me?"

Itachi was unable to keep himself from giggling as he nodded, paying no mind to how the gesture made his nose bump along Kisame's cheek.

"Yes, Kisame, I will marry you."


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little mini-chapter I wrote for funsies last night. It's not plot-advancing in the slightest.

Itachi tried not to sigh as he clicked the bedroom door shut behind him, "Tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means."

There was a camera rigged to the center of a ring light, and an AT2020 with a pop filter attached to it set up off to the side of his monitor, which meant that Kisame was streaming outside of his usual schedule for the main team channel.

“I know, I’m sorry,” the man in question offered a sheepish grin and swiveled around in his chair, “Since Deidara’s sick, someone needed to step in and fill his spot on the schedule.”

Itachi crossed the room to drop into his lap with a frown, “Has Kyusuke been abducted by aliens?” This was what substitutes were for – _to_ _substitute_.

“He already had plans and I didn’t wanna piss on his parade,” Kisame’s arms wrapped around Itachi’s body as he made himself comfortable, “Besides, I’ve finished packing for Worlds and it’s only for a few hours.”

He didn’t answer, draping his legs over the arm of the chair and snuggling into the body that enveloped his with a pout. The pout didn’t last long, though, because Itachi felt Kisame’s hand smooth over his rear to get a more secure hold, then he felt the hand stop for a second, then pass over the thin stretchy fabric of his skinny jeans a second time.

“Babe, are you not wearing underwear?”

This… Could actually work to his advantage.

“Just because _you_ had nothing in mind for this afternoon, doesn’t mean _I_ didn’t,” he answered coolly, hearing Kisame’s heartbeat begin to accelerate almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

A small, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of Itachi’s lips when he heard Kisame make a strained sound in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got time…” Kisame’s tone was much too nonchalant for the way his growing erection was beginning to poke at Itachi’s rear, “And everything’s all set up,” he clicked the preview button in OBS on his second monitor to prove his point.

Itachi eyeballed the first monitor, which was currently occupied by a Firefox window full of an assortment of tabs. The clock read 11:27 AM, so he shook his head and nestled it into the hollow of his neck, closing his eyes. “That’s most certainly not enough time for what I was planning.”

Kisame’s cock pulsed in time with the way his breathing hitched. He rolled his head back along the back of the chair with a groan, “ _Baaaabe_. This isn’t fair.”

“Oh, don’t you talk to me about inconveniences,” Itachi pinched the arm that was crossed over his body, “I put all of that effort into preparing myself for you, and formulating an elaborate plan to spending all afternoon in bed with you, and you’re ignoring me for a video game.”

He couldn’t help himself but crack a grin at that last bit, especially when Kisame all but broke down into tears.

“I’m going to die,” he whimpered, “This is it. I’m dying.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. And it’s all your fault.”

“Well, as long as you keep holding me like this then I you can do whatever you please,” Itachi purred, wriggling around in his lap to get into a better snuggling position and only feeling a little bad for how it made Kisame’s erection twitch and the man to release a heavy, stuttering breath. The chair wasn’t making things any easier.

Thankfully it seemed that Kisame was adult enough to know that there really wasn’t anything either of them could do about their current situation, because he only shifted back in his chair to better accommodate having a full grown man in his lap with a sharp exhale to calm himself.

“I love you,” he murmured after pressing a kiss into the top of Itachi’s head.

“Saying you love me won’t get you a quickie,” Itachi hummed.

Kisame stiffened, “Don’t say shit like that.”

It was meant to be teasing, but the gruff tone in the way he delivered his words, and the way Itachi could feel his arms tighten around him, told Itachi that he had actually hurt Kisame in some capacity with his joke. When he turned his face up from where it was buried in his shoulder, he could see the muscles over Kisame’s jaw flex as he grit his teeth.

Suddenly feeling like a massive dick, Itachi sat up in his lap and twisted around so that he could face him.

“No - _no_ ,” he raised both of his hands up to cup Kisame’s face, “I was just teasing you.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Kisame wouldn’t lift his eyes from where they were locked on his desk.

Itachi felt his stomach begin to sink, and he leaned in to kiss his cheek, “I’m sorry,” he kissed his brow, “I’m sorry. It sounded better in my head.”

Kisame turned into the affection that was being rained down across his face, but stayed silent and refused to meet Itachi’s gaze. His arms were still firmly locked around Itachi’s hips and waist, though, so he took that as a good sign.

“Kisame, please, don’t be angry,” Itachi could hear how distraught his voice was becoming and found himself struggling to quell the anxiety that clambered up his throat, “I don’t actually think –“

“I’m not mad, baby,” Kisame finally returned his affection by sealing their lips together in a slow, chaste kiss that lasted several seconds. Itachi could feel some of the tension finally begin to bleed out of Kisame’s muscles, which allowed his stomach to stop clenching as painfully as it was. When they finally pulled apart, though, his brow was still furrowed and it was obvious that he was still genuinely bothered.

“I’m sorry –“

“Itachi, it’s fine,” Kisame fluttered kisses along his cheek and jaw for a few more seconds, which felt to be more for his comfort than Itachi’s, “I mean it. I’m not mad.”

It must have been written all over his face that he wasn’t convinced because, when Kisame pulled away to finally meet his gaze, he sighed and sat back in the chair so he could pull Itachi back into his chest.

“I just… Don’t want you to feel like I’d ever take advantage of your feelings like that,” he explained quietly. When Itachi moved to sit back up so he could protest, Kisame tightened his arms until they were like metal bars keeping him in place, “I know that you know better. That doesn’t make it any less crappy to think about, though.”

Itachi ran a finger over his bicep, following a zigzagging line in silence. He didn’t know what to say, and knew that further apologies wouldn’t help the situation since he knew that Kisame wasn’t upset with him, so he opted to just stay silent and ignore the heavy feeling of guilt that weighed down on his chest.

“You know that I love you,” he heard Kisame murmur into his hair as the hand on his hip traced along the outer seam of his jeans.

“I know,” Itachi nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, pressing slow, warm kisses into the skin there, “I love you, too.”

That seemed to be exactly what Kisame needed to hear, because the remaining tension still quivering in his muscles relaxed at last, and his body rocked with the sigh that was released.

“Can… Can I just hold you like this until I have to start the stream?”

Itachi would much rather he be held like this for the rest of _eternity_ but knew that work needed to get done, and that this chair would probably collapse beneath their weight before eternity actually rolled around, so he nodded and readjusted himself a bit so he was properly snuggled into Kisame’s body like earlier.

As exciting as he found his afternoon plans to be earlier, Itachi had to admit that he was just as content with listening to the steady beat of Kisame’s heart as the minutes ticked by in silence. There was something inherently satisfying about the warmth and security that came with being cradled like that, with Kisame’s cheek resting on his head and both of his strong arms holding him tight to his chest. It made him feel safe, and needed, and Itachi’s heart was experiencing the same overfull feeling from before because he honestly couldn’t see how anything could possibly _matter_ outside of Kisame’s embrace.

Unfortunately, the time to move came sooner than he would have liked – because, again, eternity was a very long time – and Itachi had to reluctantly climb out of Kisame’s lap so he could change the monitor’s input settings to the HMDI port that the Xbox was plugged into.

“I suppose I’ll see you when I’m old and grey,” he sighed, grabbing the doorknob with flourish.

Kisame laughed and chucked his pillow at him, “Try not to have too much fun without me, babe.”

Itachi hummed and slipped through the door, completely unsure of what to do with himself now. He was so used to Kisame being eager – to put it in a word – to get into his pants that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind that his plans for the afternoon would fall through. Going back to his room to sit on the computer wasn’t something that particularly appealed to Itachi, but neither did going to the gym or lounging around in the living room...

What did he do before Kisame, other than spending his time with Shisui?

Nothing, probably.

With a thump, he sat on the floor in the middle of the hall and listened to Kisame start chatting with whatever viewers had joined the chat already. It had been maybe two minutes and he was already bored out of his mind.

A thought occurred to him, so Itachi flopped onto his back and raised his hips so he could fish his cell out of his pocket and open up his call history.

_“What?”_

He frowned at Sasuke’s tone, “I’m bored.”

_“I’m busy.”_

“Entertain me.”

_“No.”_

“ _Sasuke_ ,” he whined, all but kicking his feet against the carpet.

_“Holy shit, are you **three**? I’ve got shit to do today.”_

“Are you with a girl?”

Sasuke scoffed _, “No, I’m… Look, I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”_

Concern began to set in, and his frown deepened, “Sasuke, if something is going on that you need to talk about –“

He could almost hear Sasuke bristle, and Itachi imagined him looking like Chihiro from Spirited Away when she squashed a slug.

 _“Fuck, Itachi, I’m **fine** – everything’s **fine**_ ,” a pause _, “I won’t be home for dinner, though. He wants to go to that Mexican place where Kisame gets those fucking ridiculous burritos.”_

They said their goodbyes, and Itachi dropped his phone onto the floor next to where he was laying. He couldn’t help but frown at the device as Kisame’s muffled laughter filled the hall. Sasuke was with a boy? A friend? A boyfriend? Itachi’s frown deepened; he still didn’t know a whole lot about Sasuke, did he..?

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of his phone buzzing near his hip. There was a text from Sasuke.

_Thank you._

Itachi smiled and tucked his phone back into his pocket without answering, knowing that Sasuke didn’t really want a response in the first place and would probably just ignore it if he received one.

Aaaand now he was back to being bored.

Rolling over onto his side, he sighed and toyed with the idea of a nap to pass the time. Itachi didn’t really feel like getting up, though, thanks to boredom-induced lethargy, and he wondered if he could get away with just passing out in the middle of the hall like this. It wouldn’t be that bad – the carpet was that nice squishy kind that didn’t hurt your hips if you were the one stuck sitting on the floor during movie night.

Kisame’s incessant chattering ended up proving to be a rather soothing sound through the walls, apparently, because the next thing Itachi knew, he was waking up from a dreamless sleep to the feeling of his butt vibrating.

That was weird. He didn’t remember bringing a toy out of his room –

Oh, no, that was his phone.

Itachi groaned, somehow feeling even more tired than before, and pulled his cell back out to see a series of Twitter and Instagram notifications popping up on the lock screen. When he opened up the Instagram alert, he saw a rather unflattering picture of himself passed out on the floor edited next to a close up of his sleeping face.

 _It looks like someone forgot to water the @AktSusanoo_ , the caption read.

He grunted out a chuckle and switched over the Twitter while wondering when Sasori had gotten home from the gym. He scrolled through the replies.

_@Akt_Shippuden @AktSusanoo wtf is he just laying in the hall?_

_@Akt_Shippuden @AktSusanoo poor thing_

_@Akt_Shippuden @AktSusanoo Oh my god you finally killed him._

_@Akt_Shippuden @AktSusanoo he looks cute af tho holy shit_

Itachi rolled his eyes at that last one, as well as the series of memes, while tapping the retweet button.

_No one will hang out with me. @AktSeverSword kicked me out and @TU_Prophecy told me to get fucked. I’ve lost the will to live._

It didn’t hurt to emulate Kisame’s melodrama from earlier for his own amusement.

His phone buzzed.

_@AktSusanoo @AktSeverSword @TU_Prophecy they just jealous of that booty, bby._

Itachi rolled his eyes at the kissy face Shisui sent him, but grinned nonetheless and pulled himself into a sitting position just as footsteps could be heard from inside the bedroom. After a couple of moments, Kisame’s figure loomed over him with a smirk.

“Get up.”

He blinked, “What?”

Kisame reached down to help him up. “Twitch chat wants us to stream something together.”

The part of Itachi that demanded everything be carefully planned out and penned into his calendar wanted to cringe at the lack of information. The other part of him was getting used to his partner being spontaneous and unpredictable, so he shrugged and picked himself up off of the floor.

First, though, he needed to put on underwear.

 

* * *

 

“Ohhhh my god. Fuck – oh, I don’t like this.”

Itachi bit at his smiling lips as he directed Norman Reedus’s character around a corner, “Are you not having a pleasant time?”

Kisame buried his face into his shoulder, “You’re not being funny.”

“Oh, come on, that was a good one.”

“Who makes a game like this?!” his words were partially muffled by the fabric of the hoodie Itachi wore, “Why did people suggest this?!”

Shifting a little so that he wasn’t being bent at an awkward angle by the arms wrapped around his waist, Itachi furrowed his brow as he stepped through the door to load a new version of the never-ending hallway. “Kisame, _P.T_. was released in 2014 – Konami cancelled production and removed it from the PlayStation Store over a year ago. How is this the first time you have ever heard of this?” he shrugged him off, “Pay attention.”

As soon as Kisame lifted his head, the chandelier smashed into the ground. He flinched and returned to using Itachi as a shield, who was snickering in silence.

“To be one hundred percent honest, I did not know that would happen,” he explained calmly in spite of the adrenaline that had spiked through his veins, “I am just as in the dark as you are.”

“But you said that you played this!” Kisame nearly wailed, “Oh, my god, that fucking baby – it’s not even a scared crying – that’s the kind of screaming you hear when a baby’s in pain!”

In an attempt at comforting his lover, Itachi tilted his head to the side so it was resting atop his, nuzzling a little. “ _P.T._ is largely randomized – look, it’s finally midnight.”

Cautiously, Kisame peeked up from his shoulder to glance at the screen with one eye, only for his whole face to blanch and contort into an awful grimace. “Wh-why is there a – oh my god – babe – why is there a fridge – whoa that is really swingin’ around -!”

“It is implied that the husband murdered Lisa and her unborn child in a jealous rage, so I assume that the corpse was stuffed into the refrigerator before he committed suicide.”

Kisame moaned when Itachi peeked through the hole in the wall to hear what sounded like a woman having her throat slit. “Ohhh my god, I can’t – baby – this is so fucked up – I’m done.”

It was pretty clear that Kisame had no intention to dislodge himself from his hiding place, so Itachi took it upon himself to lean over to get a look at the chat box. Most of it was seemingly unending strings of emoji, with others laughing and asking questions about Kisame’s display of cowardice. Itachi took some pity on him – Kisame truly had no clue what he was getting into when he requested a “spoopy” game for Itachi to play on-stream. Itachi had no desire to play _Five Nights_ , and thought the _Resident Evil VII_ demo was something of a bore, so there they were.

Obviously, Kisame was not faring well.

At first, Itachi found it pretty amusing to watch his mountainous boyfriend flinch and make little uncomfortable noises when something out of the ordinary occurred. However, as they neared their fortieth minute of gameplay, Kisame’s reactions were becoming less humorous, and a lot more perturbing.

Abandoning the mouse and keyboard to turn his attention to him after putting the break screen up, Itachi swiveled around in the computer chair to bring one hand up to cup his jaw, the other smoothing over his thigh.

“Are you alright?”

There was a moment of hesitation on Kisame’s part before he finally mumbled, “Not really, no.” His large hands rubbed back and forth over his hips, squeezing at odd intervals, “Can we stop?”

Hearing his voice sound so small was almost physically painful. Itachi knew that horror wasn’t his thing, and he frequently made jokes during movies and games as a front of false confidence, but this was the first time that Itachi had actually seen Kisame genuinely upset like this; he was legitimately scared.

Itachi... Didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

“Of course we can,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his dyed blue hair, “Would you like to choose something else to play?”

Kisame shook his head, forehead still buried in his shoulder. “I just wanna cuddle and watch cartoons for a bit.” A beat. “And touch your butt.”

Itachi was unable to resist the urge to snort at that, and he pressed another kiss to his head. “Alright. Go get in bed and I will wrap this up.”

It took a little longer than a minute for Itachi to get the stream wrapped up; he claimed that they were both too tired to finish the full four-hour stream before cutting off OBS and turning off the emulator for PT. By the time the custom-built computer’s lighting system blinked off, Kisame had stripped down to his boxers and was climbing under the covers.

While Itachi peeled his jeans away and rifled through the top drawer for a pair of trunks (Because, let’s be honest, by this point Sasuke had all but claimed his room for his own), he heard the distinct blip of the Xbox being turned on, accompanied by the sound of sheets rustling while Kisame got comfortable.

An all-too-familiar sense of dread filled his gut.

Itachi didn’t consider himself to be the kind of person that clung to their lovers like a needy child, not when he practically grew up alone and spent a number of years of his life actually alone to the point where he could appreciate time alone, but he... Liked having Kisame around. Itachi liked knowing that Kisame was always near – either by his side in the training room or a few steps away in another room. Itachi had become accustomed to the absolute assurance that Kisame would be there when he woke up, usually the first person he spoke to in the morning.

A hand pressed itself flat against his stomach as if doing so would allow Itachi to fill the hollow feeling of loneliness there.

He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to keep going to bed with Kisame like this, sharing a bedroom dresser with both of their socks and underwear folded together in the same drawer. As much as Itachi loved Sasuke with every fiber of his being, he wouldn’t fill the empty space in the bed next to him at night. Sasuke wouldn’t make bizarre breakfasts that sacrificed aesthetic and texture for the sake of healthiness, or cradle him with ridiculously enormous arms that made him feel so safe, or look at him all that mattered was that they were together...

Kisame was Itachi’s best friend. He was the love of his life.

It shouldn’t, but it felt like Itachi was about to lose him.

“Babe?”

Itachi pulled a pair of trunks out from the drawer and stripped out of his dirty ones. “Sorry, it seems I zoned out for a moment.”

Kisame looked thoroughly displeased with his response, telling Itachi that he saw through his half-baked lie. He gave him an expectant frown.

Itachi avoided meeting his gaze while he changed into an oversized sleeping shirt. He knew that Kisame was going to be relying on him to help him feel better after having to suffer through PT, and he didn’t want to burden him with the doubts he held over their agreement. Kisame was looking at apartments in Cincinnati, just a thirty-minute drive from where Itachi and Sasuke would be living in Loveland. They would be able to see each other on the weekends, and go to the gym in the mornings like they already did, and they could have dinner during the week...

But it wouldn’t be enough, and Itachi’s heart was already kicking and screaming in protest over the idea of being separated from Kisame for even a day.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked in a voice that threatened to shake as he strode towards the door.

“Babe...” Kisame sounded more hurt than he did piqued, not like Itachi could blame him.

Itachi ran a hand through his hair, shaking it a little to remove the loose strands that slipped free and sending them floating to the grey-colored carpet.

“I am merely experiencing a bout of separation anxiety,” he admitted quietly, “It is temporary.”

Kisame held out his hand, gesturing for Itachi to join him, “C’mere.”

When he was properly settled over his thighs, Kisame’s arms slid around his waist to bring their bodies flush. He didn’t say anything at first. For a few pleasantly long moments, they silently skimmed their cheeks along one another and shared fleeting ghosts of kisses, appreciating their closeness. Itachi felt his uneasiness ebb away with the every gentle circle that Kisame rubbed into his back.

“I’m not lookin’ forward to this, either,” he murmured, “I get that we gotta spend some time apart, but I’m kinda scared shitless.”

Itachi didn’t answer. Instead, he let his head fall to his shoulder, his hands resting over his broad chest.

“But, baby, I promise all you gotta do is call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Even if it’s just because you can’t open a damn pickle jar, or want me to suck you off so you can sleep –“

“Okay,” Itachi snorted and covered his mouth with his palm, “That is quite enough.”

He felt Kisame smirk against his skin before kissing his hand. “Seriously, though. Just call me, and I’ll be there. And, in three years, we’ll be married and we’ll be together every single day for the rest of our lives.”

Itachi pressed his smiling lips against his neck, right into a little dip between sinew. He was certain that he would never, ever, deserve him.

But he was ready to devote his entire life to trying.


	21. Chapter 20

"I, uh, I dunno why I joined esports, really."

Kisame grinned and scratched the back of his head.

"I guess I just wanted to do something cool before I got too old. I can always be a physical therapist, but the window for pro gaming is pretty small. So I tried out for Hidden Mist, aaand I've been playing video games for a shit-ton of money ever since."

Itachi smiled fondly, thumbing the sleeve of his sweater. "It was the best decision I could have ever made for myself. I didn't enjoy the game, and I always felt so uncomfortable on stage, but I still felt… Something compelled me to work hard and claw my way to the top."

"It's changed my life." Deidara ran a hand through his hair. "I grew up in a small town in Idaho, so I never knew acceptance until I moved out here to join the industry. And…" he smiled, "I finally learned to love myself – _really_ love and accept myself, because of everyone around me."

"It really was a lot of work but I feel like, for all of the friendships I've made and the experiences we've shared together, it truly was worth it," Konan added, "These boys are like my own children. Nothing makes me happier than having them together at the dinner table every evening."

The screen faded to a clip of a camera panning around them in slow-motion as Nagato's voice said, "They have all had a rough year, but they still worked night and day to get here. No matter what happened, they showed a dedication I have never seen before– to the game, and to one another."

"I don't think people understand just how important this Worlds is to us." Kyusuke stood in front of the Madison Square Garden entrance, dozens of people passing by. "We need to be the best we can be. We need to play harder than we ever have. Because this? This is it."

The camera panned around Kisame, who was standing on a pier. "This might be my last run. I just don't think I've got much left in me, you know?"

"Esports has put… A lot into perspective for me – for all of us. We've all gained something invaluable."

"There is so much to gain from this life." Konan and her husband, Yahiko, appeared on the screen, holding each other in the subway. "But there is also so much that you have to sacrifice."

"Going into Worlds… I think we're all a little scared."

The screen showed Itachi wrapping his arms around Sasuke.

"We all have new priorities. We all have someone to take care of, now."

"I think it's just time to move on."

The silhouettes of Kisame and Itachi nuzzling, shadowed by the backdrop of the setting sun, appeared on-screen.

"It's time for a new chapter."

The team walked up the steps on each side of the stage, the camera switching between close-ups of the backs of their jerseys until they convened around the trophy, where the camera began to pan around them.

"It's time for a new chapter of Akatsuki eSports."

"There's no way I'm letting my team leave on a bad note."

The camera showed their faces looking up to stare directly into the lens from where they were standing, one-by-one.

"We've got one good fight left in us."

"This stage is ours."

The video faded to black and, then, the logo for _Shippuden_ 's world championship appeared.

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room as they all let the video sink in.

It was the video that would be played as their introduction before the first match they played. It took nearly an entire day to film and record, but the end result was worth it. The cinematography and editing both had the same kind of quality you would expect from a feature-length documentary.

"That was…"

"Holy shit," Kisame muttered.

"Guys…" Deidara shifted his weight to the other foot, sniffing. "That was the last video we'll ever shoot together."

A muffled whimper came from Konan, who pressed her fingers to her lips. She was crying.

"I just love you all so much," she sobbed when Kisame gathered her up in his arms.

Kyusuke rushed in to join, then Deidara. Even Sasori looked misty-eyed as he wrapped his arms around Deidara from the side.

Kisame's voice was thick. "We love you, too, mom."

Itachi kept his face low to hide his trembling lip, draping his arms over Kyusuke's and Konan's shoulders.

"No matter what happens, I will be so proud of you," she cried, "You deserve to be here – you deserve to win this. You have all worked so, so hard."

Deidara's breath stuttered, and he buried his face in her neck. "I'm gonna miss you guys."

The lump in Itachi's throat continued to grow. He tried to swallow against it, but it only seemed to make his airways even tighter.

"Yeah, me too," Kisame grunted.

"Each and every one of you better call me every day!" Konan demanded around a hiccup.

Itachi could see Kisame's shoulders start to tremble and jerk with quiet sobs, and he felt himself reach his limit. He squeezed Kyusuke's shoulder and let his forehead drop to Konan's. A tear dropped to her jersey sleeve.

It was half an hour before they finally broke apart.

* * *

_Can we go back, this is the moment._

_Tonight is the night, we'll fight till it's over._

_So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us,_

_Like the ceiling can't hold us._

_Na na na na na na na na._

Itachi's cheeks hollowed out as he sucked the last of his drink, which was mostly ice and the bubbly remains of a cocktail, through a thin black straw. He watched the crowd in front of him dance and bump and writhe around to the catchy beat, most of them with drinks in their hands. Lights of varying hues of blues and purples danced over the party attendees, who were all involved in the esports industry in some way or another, which made for a rather intriguing sight for a pleasantly buzzed Itachi.

Oh, boy, he really should have eaten something before. Probably. Maybe.

A familiar 6'6" figure appeared in front of him, effectively blocking his view from the partygoers and EDM-style lightshow. Itachi wasn't complaining, though, because that same figure was hooking a finger under his chin to lift his face up for a kiss.

And Itachi liked Kisame's kisses.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, looking positively tickled at the sight of Itachi's alcohol-flushed cheeks.

Itachi used both hands to grab hold of Kisame's shirt – at some point, the empty glass had disappeared – and drag him in for another kiss, this one noticeably deeper.

And, maybe, a little sloppy.

Chuckling into his mouth, Kisame gave him one long, lush kiss before pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "I'll take that as a yes." He raised Itachi's empty glass, "You want another?"

Had Itachi been sober, instead swaying on his feet with three cocktails circulating through his bloodstream, he would have noticed the hazy way his partner was smirking.

He grinned and nodded, not caring to move the lock of hair that flopped in front of his eye.

"The same?"

The way Itachi's smile turned into an impish leer should have started setting off alarms in Kisame's brain, given that it rivaled his own predatory grin in a maddeningly sultry way, but Zabuza and Suigetsu had convinced him to take advantage of the open bar and take shots with them – a competition that he won with five back-to-back hits of Partida Blanco.

So, when his normally reserved fiancé grabbed him by the belt and started guiding him over to the bar, he wasn't complaining.

And he sure as _shit_ wasn't complaining when Itachi leaned over the marble countertop to speak to the bartender. Itachi hadn't been able to get back to the gym since the surgery, which seemed to have kicked his and Sasuke's appetites into overdrive, so he had softened up in ways that made his jeans tight enough for the fabric to strain over his ass as he bent over. Normally Kisame was into more fit guys but, watching Itachi's hips sway back and forth in time with whatever dubstep remix was pouring from invisible speakers in loud, heavy thrums, he was _really_ digging Itachi with a little extra weight on him.

Just as he had started toying with the idea of taking a fistful of that ass in his hand, Itachi turned around with two shotglasses carefully balanced in one hand, and some yellow-colored martini in the other.

Kisame didn't need him to grab him by the belt this time – he followed Itachi as be practically sauntered over to the high-top area to set down the collection of drinks. Upon closer inspection Kisame could see that the shotglasses were filled with layers of some sort of brown liquor and topped with what looked like… Whipped cream? He raised an eyebrow at Itachi, who was eyeing him like a hungry jungle cat as he guided him into one of the seats.

"Have you ever had a blowjob?"

As the tequila started to slam into him like a brick wall, Kisame could only blink in confusion.

Itachi's smirk expanded for one of his canines to be visible. "Would you like me to show you?"

Wh-wha-what? A blowjob? _Here?_ Kisame was all about adding the element of danger of being caught, and _maybe_ frequented the voyeurism tag on porn sites, but he would need a shit ton more booze before he started whipping his dick out in public.

Itachi took no heed of his apprehensiveness, however, and plucked one of the shotglasses off of the table to place it between Kisame's closed thighs. Hands behind his back, Itachi leaned over in one swift movement to wrap his lips around the shotglass, exhaling enough for Kisame's crotch to become uncomfortably warm, then straightened up to toss his head back. When he pulled the glass out of his mouth, a small smear of whipped cream clung to his lip.

He licked it away, still maintaining eye contact.

Kisame could actually _feel_ a little part of his brain short-circuit watching that pretty pink tongue leisurely trace the top of his equally pretty lip.

Lithely, Itachi stepped back to hop on to the chair adjacent to Kisame. He pulled his hair from the tie that kept it fastened at the nape of his neck, and Kisame was finding it exceedingly difficult to focus on anything other than how he'd rather see those long pretty piano fingers wrapped around his dick, rather than the stem of his martini glass.

Kisame took a moment to screw his eyes shut in a vain attempt at clearing his head, something that was easier said than done as he slid off of the bar stool. Or, rather, he attempted to slide off, but it was more of a clumsy lumbering movement that made him feel like a giant that was scaring all the townspeople. Kisame felt like he was leaving an afterimage as he moved, like his body was moving in slow-motion.

Should that have told him to stop drinking? Probably.

Did it? Nah.

A pale hand found itself on the back of his head to guide him down to the shot that was between Itachi's thighs. The gesture was deliberate, Kisame could tell that much from the perpetual leering grin on his partner's face, and Kisame was seriously beginning to consider stocking his future house up on liquor for when Itachi visited. Maybe, if he got lucky, he'd get one hell of a strip tease.

Itachi was not, by any means, into voyeurism, but he wasn't thinking about the crowd that wasn't paying them any mind as he released his grip on Kisame's hair to let him straighten up.

He was thinking about how thrilling it was to embrace his sexuality again.

The booze just made him care a _little_ less about where they were.

The taste of amaretto and Bailey's still lingered on his tongue as he took another sip of his martini lemon drop, sure to make a show of running the tip of his tongue along the sugar-coated rim. Kisame's eyes darkened and remained fixated on his lips, still glistening from the moisture that clung to them, even as he extended his legs to rest them over Kisame's lap.

"Since when d'you drink?" Kisame's slurred question was nearly lost to the remixed Womanizer that filled every corner of the nightclub that the _Shippuden_ publishers had secured for the evening.

A shrug.

Itachi reduced his martini to half. He discreetly rolled his ankle so that it rubbed against the erection that bulged through his dark jeans, smirking at the way Kisame tried to hide the way it made him fidget.

"Mkay, time fer water," Kisame announced, dropping off of the chair and grabbing the empty shotglasses.

He was drunk as hell, but he wasn't so plastered that he wasn't capable of knowing when it was time to call it quits. Alcohol seemed to bring out a rather licentious side of Itachi that Kisame definitely had zero qualms with whatsoever, other than the fact that Itachi wasn't in a state where he could be trusted to make informed decisions for himself, so he needed to take advantage of his fast metabolism and sober up before heading back to their room. Granted, Kisame was still going to be tipsy by the time their Uber dropped them off, but tipsy mostly just meant giggly and clumsy for him, rather than vulnerable to the sinful glint in the back of Itachi's eyes, which followed him from behind that yellow martini as he flagged down the bartender for a couple bottles of water.

One of these days he would have to figure out how to elicit this kind of behavior from Itachi when he was sober. If he looked at Kisame like that while he was fucking him…

Shit. No. Kisame needed to focus on something else.

His muscles were sore from working out in the hotel gym earlier. When he reached out to meet the bartender halfway, the muscles in his shoulder stretched and groaned.

Like the soreness he felt after letting Itachi have his way with him –

Laundry! Kisame had to do a _ton_ of laundry. Before they left he considered tackling their overfull hamper that sat in the corner of their bedroom, but he was more interested in challenging Deidara to a swimming competition in the pool. A lot of that laundry was comprised of dirty, stinky gym clothes that were completely saturated with sweat, so there was no doubt in Kisame's mind that it would be a festering pile of disgustingness by the time they got back.

Gross.

The last of Itachi's martini had been emptied by the time Kisame willed his boner away, nothing left but a thin cloudy film sticking to the inside of the glass. He took the bottle that was handed to him but had since turned his attention to the group of people that were dancing the night away beneath a dozen laser lights. It was kind of like the way he'd look at a new kind of Little Debbie product, where he kind of wanted to try it but he didn't want to waste money on something he wasn't sure he'd enjoy.

"Wanna dance?"

Itachi scrunched his nose a little.

"C'mon," Kisame took his hand in his own, noting how the small touch still made his stomach flutter, and started to pull him away from the high top area.

"Kisame –"

"No one'll pay attention t'ya, babe," Kisame assured him. His mouth felt fuzzy from the sheer amount of alcohol that was sucking all of the moisture from his tongue and lips, and his lips felt weirdly numb so it was getting difficult to enunciate.

It was obvious that Itachi was still hesitant to join him, but the layers of inhibitions that would have him outright rejecting the concept of dancing had been peeled away by the alcohol he had consumed. He allowed himself to be guided through the throng of dancers until they were tucked away towards a dark spot where people wouldn't notice them. There may be an open bar, but this was still a professional industry party; there wouldn't be any horny couples looking to interrupt them by trying to make out in a corner.

Kisame guzzled down the water in his hand, the cheap plastic crunching under the vacuum pressure, and chucked it into the nearby trash can so he could place both of his hands on Itachi's hips. He pulled him close, hoping that his size would help Itachi feel shielded somewhat from the eyes he thought would be on him.

"I don't know how," Itachi muttered after a handful of awkwardly silent seconds.

"Just move, baby," Kisame kissed his forehead, "There's no wrong way."

Itachi didn't watch movies that involved dancing, and he sure as hell didn't have any experience, so he struggled to recall what he had seen – which was already fuck-all difficult when his brain felt like it had been replaced with cotton. He furrowed his brow and rolled his hips experimentally.

"There you go," Kisame purred, repositioning his legs to sway side to side.

Kisame allowed Itachi to set the pace of their movements. His hands didn't stray from where they were casually resting over his iliac crest, and waited for Itachi to swing his hips a certain way or move his body more in sync with the rhythm as he got more into it. At some point Itachi started letting his hands roam over his body, filling his palms with the swells of muscles that curved over his chest and arms, and Kisame nearly giggled in unadulterated delight.

Kisame opened his mouth to protest when Itachi pulled back, but stopped himself when Itachi locked his eyes on his as he finished his water. That glimmer from earlier returned, one that Kisame was quickly learning was a glimmer that was _very_ capable of making his blood pressure elevate, so he was pretty convinced that Itachi wasn't about to call it quits.

Once the bottle was tossed into the same trash can, Kisame's speculations were confirmed as Itachi suddenly turned around to press himself against Kisame's front, one hand slithering up and around to secure itself around the back of Kisame's thick neck. The other took the liberty of taking hold of Kisame's wrist and slinging it over his waist so that his hand was pressed flat over Itachi's belly. Kisame took the hint and smoothed both of his hands over his rolling hips so he could move with him.

They stayed like that for a few more songs, but Kisame was more interested in feeling Itachi twist and roll against him than letting the music flow through him, or whatever the fuck else people said when talking about dancing. He did, however, chuckle with the rest of the room when a round of laughter (And groans) erupted when Sandstorm started playing because, of course, you can't go to a party without hearing it at least once.

Eventually Itachi turned back around to practically drag Kisame into the crowd, to which Kisame felt himself smiling like a lovestruck idiot, because Itachi's smile was so blissful and beautiful…

Suigetsu should be thankful for the self control that prevented Kisame from making him swallow his own teeth when he started whistling when Itachi pulled his face down for a kiss. Or, maybe, he should be thanking Kisame's complete lack of a desire to remove his hands from Itachi's body for any amount of time.

He did receive a rather withering glare from Itachi, though.

Kisame nudged his cheek with his nose to get another kiss. "You wanna get outta here?"

Another smile – fuck, Kisame wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to how goddamn _happy_ they made him – and Itachi nodded.

"Big Mac?"

It wouldn't hurt to indulge him every now and then; Kisame knew he was a little too overbearing when it came to Itachi's health, something that may or may not have become more of an issue after the surgery.

Itachi giggled and nodded again.

"Alright, baby," Kisame kept one arm around his waist while fishing his phone out of his back pocket, "Let's go get some more water, and we'll bounce."

It wasn't more than a few minutes later when their Lyft rolled up to the club's curb, gravel crunching beneath its tires. Itachi was, thankfully, nowhere near as plastered as he was the night Kisame picked him up from The Metro, so it was a lot easier to get him into the car this time around. They were splitting the fare with another couple, who began to argue within a few minutes of the ride.

"No, we are _not_ going to the same place," a man with a thick Middle Eastern accent Itachi couldn't place insisted, "I do not know this woman – we only just met!"

"That is not true, he said I could stay with him tonight!"

"Well, I only got two destinations so I can't stop anywhere else 'til I finish this ride," the driver's voice was understandably strained as he explained their options, "We can figure out whatta do when we get to your hotel."

"There's nothing to figure out! I'm staying with him!"

The male passenger's frown deepened, "You are insane! I am not sharing a hotel room with a woman I just met!"

"Then why are we sharing a Lyft?!"

"I thought that you were the one I was splitting the fare with!"

Itachi scooted away from the man to press himself closer to Kisame's side, who threw his arm around his shoulder to hold him tight. Kisame pressed a kiss to his hair, then his temple.

"I don't think we'll be able to stop, baby," he murmured, "If you're okay with waiting, I'll run out and find you somethin' when we get back to the room."

The driver looked in the rearview mirror, "You guys wanna stop somewhere?"

Itachi buried his face in Kisame's chest, who looked up to wave him off. "Nah, man, it's cool. We were just gonna ask if we could stop at a drive through real fast."

"That's not a problem! Where d'ya wanna stop?"

"Are you fucking me?!" the female exclaimed from the passenger's seat, "You'll stop for them, but you can't take me somewhere off the route?!"

Itachi was practically crawling into Kisame's body by this point. He was so uncomfortable – he was literally caught between the two arguing passengers, and he was not okay with it.

"Their hotel's on the same road as a lotta fast food joints," the driver drawled, his voice thick with a Jersey accent.

"Really, man, you don't have to –"

"Don't worry about it! Just tell me where you wanna go."

"This is such bullshit!" the woman folded her arms and twisted around to glare at the men in the backseat, "Of course you'd favor the foreigner and faggots. Liberal white-hating piece of shit."

The muscles in Kisame's muscles twitched. "Whoa! Chill!"

"Don't you fucking tell me to chill – who do you think you are, you degenerate!?"

Itachi bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, fingers tugging on his shirt, "Kisame, please don't…"

"What a disgusting woman…" the man next to him sighed.

The way Kisame's arm twitched and flexed around Itachi told him that he was geared up and ready to lash out at the woman that released a stream of profanity and bigotry, but was keeping himself in check for Itachi's sake. He pressed a kiss into his chest as a thank you.

The driver pulled into a twenty-four-hour McDonald's drive through and took their orders, a medium Big Mac combo for Itachi and a large Diet Coke and a side of apples for Kisame. Kisame passed over a twenty, feeling like a civilian from a neutral country that was diving through a warzone as he did so.

Their hotel couldn't come fast enough. The couple continued to bicker the remaining half mile, and Itachi had to fight the urge to pick at his fries. Booze made him hungry.

Thankfully it was only a couple of minutes before they were driven to the drop-off in front of the hotel lobby, and Kisame couldn't seem to move fast enough to get out of the car with the to-go bag clenched in one hand, the other extended to take Itachi's elbow to keep him steady. Itachi felt for the driver, he did, but he was glad that he wasn't that guy as the door shut behind him, only barely muffling the raised voices that continued to shout at each other.

"Alright, you," Kisame clapped him on the butt, "I'm gettin' tired. Let's eat and get in bed."

Itachi would have held his hand if he wasn't holding both of their drinks. Instead, he quickly shifted gears and bounced alongside him as they made their way through the lobby. "Can we watch cartoons?"

Kisame raised an eyebrow, " _You_ wanna watch cartoons?" Usually, Itachi was the one whining and complaining whenever something like The Simpsons or Adventure Time were put on.

Itachi's response was to hop into the elevator and grin.

So _fucking_ cute.

They passed by a handful of other players that also tapped out early, namely Lee and Sakura from Leaf eSports and few famous streamers that were there for an exhibition match, on their way to their room, nodding their hellos. Everyone was exhausted from the tournament preparations and the incessant networking parties – today was their only day to really relax and have fun, so no one felt like conversation by this point.

Well, no one but Itachi. Itachi was offering cheery hellos and bouncing alongside Kisame, tripping every now and then and giving Kisame a goddamn heart attack every time, while babbling incessantly about… Something. Kisame truly and honestly gave a valiant effort to keep up with what Itachi was trying to say but, when he was slipping in and out of different languages and topics, there came a point where Kisame just stopped bothering and offered a half-hearted "yup" and "mhm" every so often.

Eventually, though, it started to get a little annoying. Like, it was cute and all, but Kisame had literally no clue what Itachi was going on about and that left him a little frustrated. So, on a whim, he reached out to squeeze his butt.

Itachi yipped predictably, his one-sided conversation coming to a grinding halt.

Kisame only felt a _little_ guilty.

They were at their room just a couple seconds later, anyways, so Itachi quickly shifted his attention to the food that Kisame was pulling out of the grease-stained paper bag once the door was shut behind him and they had a chance to set everything down on the desk.

Watching Itachi eat with stunted coordination was a treat within itself. He picked up four French fries at once with the tips of his fingers and pushed them into his mouth, wrapping his lips around his fingers and sliding them free. It was like watching a baby try to eat Cheerios for the first time.

Really, everything about Itachi's behavior since they got into the car was reminiscent of a child's. While Kisame polished off his apple slices, keeping an eye on Itachi because he wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't choke on the Big Mac he was practically mashing into his face, he idly wondered if alcohol was a means for Itachi to act the way he wasn't allowed to when he was a kid.

Not like Kisame minded. It was a little irritating to listen to him prattle on in different languages, but it was still cute to watch Itachi rock back and forth on the bed and watch Spongebob and suck on the straw of his blue Powerade.

Kisame reached out to run the back of his knuckles down to his hips, and back up to his shoulders. Maybe it was still the booze running through his system, but he felt kind of… Sad.

No, not sad, longing.

How had they never had this conversation before?

"Hey, babe?" When Itachi twisted around to peer over his shoulder, "Do you want kids?"

Setting his half-empty cup aside, Itachi nodded before crawling between his legs. "Do you wanna put a baby in me?"

Kisame snorted and waited for him to get settled against his chest before wrapping his arms around his chest, letting his chin rest on Itachi's shoulder. "Yeah, I wanna put a baby in you."

Itachi hummed with a tired smile. "Good. Let's have lots of babies, Kisame."

Kisame smiled, albeit a little sadly. "How many babies?"

"All of them."

He didn't bother with suppressing his laughter, but toned it down when the sudden jostling earned him an irked glare from Itachi. "All of them?"

Itachi yawned and closed his eyes.

"You sleepy?"

"Mm."

"Let's get a shower, then," Kisame mumbled, patting his thigh, "C'mon."

Itachi groaned and rolled around, kinda sliding down the bed so that his face was smushed in Kisame's belly, "No."

"Babe –"

He slid down even further until he could hide in his groin, "Just let me sleep."

There was a second where Kisame considered just conceding and giving his fiancé what he wanted, but he knew that they would both feel disgusting in the morning with hangovers as it was; they might as well spare themselves the experience of waking up feeling grimy and smelling like booze and cigarettes.

"It'll take like five minutes," Kisame insisted, prying his fingers away from his waist, "If you don't get up, I'll just carry you there."

When he finally wiggled free, Itachi rolled over and faceplanted into the duvet, grumbling something that was lost to the void.

"I'll wash your hair," he offered, "You can even sit on the bench in there."

Itachi peeked up to glare at him. "That rhymed."

"Yes it did." Kisame smacked his butt with both hands. "Now, get up."

It took a couple more minutes of pestering on Kisame's part, mostly using his hold to jiggle his butt and bounce him against the mattress, but Itachi finally relented and let himself be peeled away from the bed and dragged into the bathroom. His enthusiasm seemed to be piqued when Kisame began to undress him, and he returned the favor, if a little clumsily. Kisame was worried that he was going to start flashing those bedroom eyes at him again, but his concerns subsided when Itachi just hugged his waist.

Soft kisses fluttered along his chest.

Kisame sighed and let his head fall back against the wall.

"I'm not afraid of what you'll do to me," Itachi murmured against his skin.

Uh, what?

Kisame looked down at him, brow furrowed. "Hm?"

"You asked 'bout why I drank tonight." Those soft, pretty, slightly dehydrated lips followed the curve of where his tattoo curled around his pec. "It's 'cause I know I don't have to be afraid of what might happen."

All of his insides seemed to melt when Itachi's head turned to rest against his chest. Kisame wasn't sure what exactly did it – the total difference in the way Itachi acted around him compared to when they first started dating, or their plans to put an end to such an enormous part of their lives to start something new together, or how everything felt so _right_ just having him there - but Kisame felt an unfamiliar lightness in his body, a warmth flooding through him, that left his legs feeling almost too weak to support his weight.

Kisame kissed the top of his head, then ran one of his large hands through Itachi's hair to comb his bangs away from his face.

"Kisame?"

"Hm?"

Itachi snuggled a little closer. "I'm sorry I can't carry your babies."

Kisame chuckled low in his chest and secured his arms around his back. "I'm the one that bottoms – wouldn't _I_ be carrying _your_ babies?"

Itachi grinded his forehead into his chest.

"Hey, Itachi –" he nudged his forehead until Itachi met his gaze with his own teary one, which threw Kisame off a bit. "-Are you really upset over this?"

Itachi averted his eyes to the black and white painting of a half-full wine glass that hung on the wall.

"We can't have children," he whispered, a tear slipping free and rolling down a flushed cheek, "And I _really_ want children, Kisame."

"What? Itachi – no – of _course_ we can." Kisame cupped his jaw with one hand, running his calloused thumb under the soft, silky flesh under his eye, "We can adopt all the kids you want, or we can foster, or use a surrogate –"

"I don't want a _random woman_ carrying our baby -!"

" _Itachi_ ," Kisame pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips, and didn't pull away until Itachi's breath started to slow, "Let's just take a shower and go to bed. We don't need to have this talk right now." He was definitely regretting bringing it up, as it was.

Another tear trailed down to drip off of Itachi's chin. "But we hav'to talk about these things," he protested around a sob, echoing the same line that Kisame used to use to coax Itachi into talking about things early in their relationship.

He released his jaw to hold him close to his chest, squeezing him tight. "We can talk about it when we're ready to make that step, baby. When we wanna start a family together, we'll sit down and talk about our options."

"But-"

"And when we're _sober_ ," Kisame tacked on, because Itachi was still swaying on his feet and he lacked the higher cognitive functions necessary for these kinds of major discussions.

Itachi kissed the bicep that was next to his face. "Do you still wish to get married?"

Kisame chuckled again and kissed his hair. "I'm _gay_ , babe, it's not like anyone else I date is gonna carry my kids." He stepped back, rubbing his palms up and down Itachi's upper arms. "C'mon. Shower time."

* * *

Itachi loved watching Kisame sleep.

During the day, Kisame had a habit of making himself larger and louder to project an aura of strength. He would cross his arms over his chest to square out his shoulders, stand with his legs spread, wear an almost unceasing smirk that projected limitless confidence, and spoke a little deeper and a little louder than the other people in the room with him.

Itachi wasn't even sure if he was aware that he was doing it – it seemed so natural for Kisame that it was likely that it was just an automatic defense mechanism.

When he was asleep, though… Kisame was quiet. Soft. The hard set of his jaw relaxed, and the tension in his brow smoothed out as he traded that ruggedness for something softer.

He noticed it when they were alone, too. Kisame let himself be a little more pliable in Itachi's hands when they were talking and Itachi wanted to press piano notes into his skin or play with his fingers, or he didn't bother with pretending that he didn't want to sleep with the lights on after Itachi watched a horror flick.

Itachi traced the outline of his eyebrows with the tip of his finger, smoothing out any tiny hairs that stuck out in the wrong direction. He followed the straight line of his nose, paying no mind to the little bumps of invisible blackheads forming below the skin, and booped the tip with a soft smile.

Through the thin gap between the curtains Itachi could see that the sun had yet to rise; the world was still bathed in a swatch of indigo as the first rays of morning began to glow on the horizon. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told Itachi that it was only 6:13, which gave them plenty of time before they had to meet with the rest of the team for breakfast.

He turned his attention back down to the sleeping man snoring softly below him. Part of Itachi wanted to wake him up just to listen to him talk – Kisame liked to share little anecdotes when they were readying themselves to leave the comfort of the bed – but he couldn't stop himself from snuggling back into the covers and pressing himself against his side, twining one of his legs around his. Itachi splayed his fingers over Kisame's abdomen, brushing his fingertips along the developed muscles there as he went through the left hand's motions of Chopin's Nocturne No. 20.

"Mm, that feels nice."

Itachi nestled into the crook of his shoulder when he wrapped one thick arm around him. "Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep good with you." Kisame's voice was low and husky from sleep, which made Itachi feel all kinds of squirmy.

When he smacked his lips in what was presumably an attempt to swallow, Itachi stopped brushing along his belly to ask, "Would you like some water?"

Itachi didn't remember drinking a massive amount last night, but he still managed to down two of the six dollar water bottles from the mini fridge that would no doubt be taken out of his paycheck. He could only imagine that Kisame was just as thirsty – he definitely noticed the rounds of whooping and cheering from the drinking game he was in with his old teammates.

The room wasn't terribly cold when Itachi slipped out of the covers, as Kisame always set the air conditioning to a comfortable 78, so he wasted a little time to dump five creamer packs into his second cup of coffee that morning before getting back into bed, handing a large bottle of Fiji to his sleepy-eyed partner.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Just thirsty as shit," Kisame murmured around the spout, "You?"

Itachi propped a few of the pillows up against the headboard so he could sit against it comfortably, smiling when Kisame snuggled into his lap.

"Quite. You took very good care of me last night." Itachi's free hand instinctively threaded itself into his mussed blue hair.

Kisame floundered around for the remote before Itachi saved him from knocking it off of the nightstand by simply handing it to him. "So you actually remember last night?" he joked, flipping through some channels before landing on CNN.

Itachi flicked him in the ear. "I did not drink that much," he tutted.

"Do you remember asking me to impregnate you?"

"Do not think I will not drop this coffee on your face, Kisame."

"And ruin these good looks?"

Itachi pursed his lips. He _was_ quite fond of Kisame's face.

A comfortable silence fell between them for the next few minutes as they sipped away at their drinks. In spite of Kisame's best efforts, Itachi had yet to give up his taste for sugary, creamer-laden coffee, so it didn't take very long for him to find himself quite awake and alert while Kisame made idle comments about various news stories around yawns.

Once the water bottle was emptied, Kisame chucked it onto the floor and practically melted into Itachi's lap, snaking one arm around his hip.

"We still have plenty of time," Itachi murmured, scratching lightly at his scalp, "Why not go back to sleep for a couple of hours?"

"Thinking about goin' to the gym."

Itachi made a face. "With a hangover?"

Kisame rolled onto his back to look up at him with a grin. "Unless you have a better idea of where I can get some cardio in."

"I am not kissing your foul morning breath."

"Well if all I gotta do is brush my teeth -!" Kisame pushed himself up and rolled off of the bed with as little grace as one could imagine, hopping a little when he lost his balance before making long strides towards the door.

Itachi rolled his eyes but didn't stop himself from chuckling into his mug.

He continued to watch the news as the light squeaking of the faucet preceded the sound of water rushing into the sink. CNN was talking about Obama's rising approval ratings. Not the most riveting piece, but it was a step up from the story on the pug from Idaho that received some sort of commemorative hero award.

His mouth felt a little sticky from all of the sugar, so Itachi was digging through the mini fridge for another bottle of water when a hand skimmed along his spine to rest at the spin of his back. Itachi wiggled his hips a little to goad him into giving him a light spank. A cheeky grin plastered onto his face, Itachi straightened up and cracked the plastic cap of the bottle off.

"Do I get my kiss now?"

He raised an eyebrow and took a long swig of water. "I don't recall promising you anything."

Kisame wasn't having any of it, though, and took the bottle away from his lips to set it on top of the desk so he could bring their faces together.

"Kisame –" Another kiss cut him off.

"Kisa –"

"Kisame!" Itachi laughed and put his hands on his chest to push him away, but the arms Kisame had locked around his waist were like bars of iron that kept him imprisoned to his chest.

"Yes, sweetie? Snookums? Light-of-my-life? Would you like something?" Kisame's lips stretched into a smirk against his cheek. "More kisses?"

A stream of giggles that Itachi couldn't quite suppress bubbled past his lips as wet, sloppy kisses were pressed up and down his neck and face. " _Kisame!_ "

" _Itachi!_ "

Kisame hoisted him up by the waist and all but launched him onto the bed. Itachi shrieked and bounced against the mattress, unable to stabilize himself before Kisame was crawling on top of him to rain down a smattering of kisses that left the bare surface of his chest and shoulders spackled with spit. Itachi pushed weakly at the arms holding him down, writhing and kicking his legs in a futile attempt at getting away from the man that was nipping at his neck and licking long, wet stripes over every inch of skin he could reach.

"Christ – you're a _dog_!"

"I _can_ be," Kisame chuckled against his clavicle, pressing his hips down enough to make Itachi's lashes flutter.

Amicable laughter simmered down into happy, smiled sighs. Calloused hands smoothed up the sides of his body until they were pushing Itachi's arms up over his head, pinning his hands into the pillows. Kisses slowed from rapid peppering to long and drawn-out, lips molding to one another like wet clay.

Itachi's eyes closed as Kisame's breath ghosted over his jaw. Their fingers laced together. They shifted along one another, rolling their hips in a slow, grinding motion.

A thin string of saliva connected their lips when they parted to look at one another, Kisame's tongue flitting out to clean it away from his lip when it snapped in the middle.

A billowing calm wrapped around them, like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer. It settled over them to shield them from any part of the outside world, soothing the nerves Itachi didn't even know he had, and encouraging his breathing to even out. He slipped his hands free to flatten them over Kisame's chest.

So warm…

"Take me, Kisame."

The blue eyes that never ceased in leaving him floored widened in surprise. Kisame was silent.

"… What?"

A shy smile graced his features.

Hesitation brewed in Kisame's gaze, which searched his for a very long moment. Itachi could almost see every thought that passed through his head, every question that made itself known, and he tried to help him relax by running his palms up to his shoulders, then back down, then back up.

It didn't seem to help, though. Kisame's entire face was filled with tension.

"I…" Kisame's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "No… No, I can't."

Itachi blinked. He… Was not expecting that.

"I mean, I want to – baby, I want to _so_ bad," Kisame explained, his voice faltering as his heart raced beneath Itachi's hand, "Just… Not here. Not in a hotel room – not during a tournament."

Dark eyes narrowed in confusion. "We had sex during DreamHack."

"I know, and…"Kisame frowned. He shifted and lowered himself onto the bed so that he was nestled against Itachi's side. "It was different, then. I don't want this to be in some spontaneous thing, in a random hotel room with a hangover and with fuckin' Pussygate 2016 playing in the background. I want it to be special."

If Itachi were entirely honest with himself, he would have admitted that hearing his response bothered him. He didn't want Kisame to feel like sex meant something less when it was _him_ bottoming, rather than Itachi – as if he didn't deserve to be treated with special care. Itachi knew that it took a lot for him to get over the stigma attached to being on the receiving end of sex and, even if he genuinely enjoyed it, he initially only did it as a compromise so the two could be intimate.

Itachi cupped his jaw to guide his face up for a kiss.

"Your sex matters, too, Kisame," he murmured into his mouth.

"I kn…" Kisame stopped himself and averted his gaze.

"You have been infinitely patient with me, so I have no problem with waiting a while longer until you're ready –" Itachi paused to brush their lips together in a fleeting kiss "- But do not trivialize what we share simply because of _how_ we share it."

Kisame's lips parted as if to say something, only to close back up. After a few moments,

"Did I hurt you in the hospital church?"

Itachi frowned. "Of course you didn't." Did he forget how, afterwards, all he had to do was _lick_ Itachi's cock for him to come?

Kisame was silent.

"Kisame, I would not fake enjoyment for you," Itachi explained, raising himself on his hands so he could get a better look at his face, "I promised that I would let you know if you did anything to upset me, did I not?"

"You did, but…" Kisame sighed, "It was so out of the blue, and violent –"

"It was _not_ violent," Itachi quickly cut him off, using the hand still on his jaw to force Kisame to meet his piercing gaze, "I was in need of a distraction to pull me out of an overwhelming situation. You provided me with that. My throat was sore afterwards, but that in _no way_ implies that you were ever _violent_ with me."

Had this been bothering him this entire time?

"I pushed you down to your knees, baby. I _restrained_ you."

"Plenty of couples experiment with kink. What we –" Itachi made sure to remind him that it was something they _both_ consented to – "Did was nothing out of the ordinary. You're best friends with Zabuza and Haku – "

Kisame's jaw flexed. "Haku wasn't raped."

Itachi frowned, the only indicator of how deeply Kisame's sharp tone cut. "Are you saying that, because _I_ was, I cannot enjoy those moments with you?"

"No! I just…" Kisame released a sharp sigh and peeled himself out of his embrace in order to push himself into a sitting position. His shoulders, normally broad and straight with confidence, were slumped forward. "Remember when we made out at the gym the first time? When Deidara walked in to keep us from getting busted?"

Of course he did. It was the moment that sparked a previously dormant passion for exercising at the gym – because it almost always ended with the two of them tearing away each others' clothes in the private changing rooms while their teammates were still on the floor.

"You were into it, but you still had a panic attack, like, a _minute_ later."

… Oh.

"I felt like I forced you into something you didn't want – and with the chapel, I just…" Kisame ran a hand through his tousled hair, "I'm… Waiting for it. Waiting for the crash."

Oh, Kisame…

This entire time, they had been focused on Itachi's healing as he moved on from the trauma of being attacked; they had never put much of a focus on what kind of headspace their dynamic put _Kisame_ in.

"I just wish you'd yell at me, or something. 'N let me know I did something wrong, or that I hurt you..." 

"You _didn't_ do anything wrong, though," Itachi said with earnest, repositioning himself so that he was sitting on his feet, "Kisame, I have no desire to yell at you – I want to do it _again_."

Finally, Kisame looked up. "You do..?" 

Glad to finally have piqued his interest, Itachi shuffled closer so he could hug his thick arm to his chest, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I do." Among several other filthy things that would make a KinkMen actor blush, several of which involving the vast array of toys in his nightstand drawer.

Several of which involving the vast array of toys in his nightstand drawer being used on Kisame.

Itachi's dick stirred at the prospect of introducing Kisame to sounds; he shifted his hips away with enough subtlety to not draw attention to the swelling bulge in his trunks.

He released a shaking breath. "Baby, I'm so fucking afraid of hurting you -" he put a hand up to silence Itachi when he opened his mouth to protest, "-I know you're going to say that I won't, or that you trust me, but that doesn't change anything. This whole time I've been trying to be careful to not trigger any panic attacks or do something _he_ might've..."

Itachi stretched upwards to seal a kiss over Kisame's jaw, one hand sliding down the curves of his arm to take his hand.

"Kisame, the biggest hurdle was being undressed by someone other than myself," he explained calmly, understandingly, "I needed to be reminded that sex was something to be _enjoyed_ , not feared. _You_ helped me with that - I could have never gotten this far, sleeping in my underwear with my naked boyfriend in some unfamiliar hotel room, if it hadn't been for you."

Kisame still looked unsure of himself until Itachi's hand directed him into another kiss.

"We can discuss the specifics later," he muttered, lips fluttering against his, "I would not ever ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with, so if you truly don't want to change roles then I am more than content with our current arrangement. But... Maybe, instead of worrying about how much I trust you, you can trust _me_?"

Kisame's brow pointed inwards as he released another unsteady sigh. "I just love you so _fuckin' much_ , baby."

Itachi's lips curled into a kind smile.

"I love you, too."

The muscles that quivered with tension finally relaxed as he returned the kiss, easing up with every passing moment until they both found themselves entangled in one another's bodies.

Their hands skimmed over each other in exploration for invisible textures and sensitive areas that they both still had yet to discover, running through long hair and following familiar ink patterns. Quiet sighs joined between as the sensations of being held and caressed allowed a familiar comfort to envelop them.

Strong arms pulled gently on Itachi's waist to coax him into following when Kisame rolled onto his back, settling between strong thighs that parted invitingly for him. His palms smoothed over that tight waist, paying little mind to the way their skin tones contrasted so sharply against one another, as his lips skimmed along Kisame's collar. Itachi kissed every inch of dark skin that he could reach, gently squeezing swells of muscle and tracing his fingertips along his sacral plexus by memory just to feel him twitch.

Thick, rough fingers threaded themselves into Itachi's hair, which spilled around his shoulders like liquid ink, when he nuzzled his cheek into the subtle curve of Kisame's iliac fossa like a cat.

Kisame chuckled, covering his face with his free arm.

"I asked you to marry me, and we've still got so much to work out," he grumbled with half-hearted humor.

Itachi slid back up his body to lay over his torso, folding his hands over his chest and resting his chin on them. "We have three years to figure everything out, chief."

Kisame's arms snaked around his waist and Itachi set his head down with a happy sigh, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He snorted.

"Did you really call it 'Pussygate 2016'?"

Kisame's chest bounced with a quiet laugh. "Got it from the internet."

"You are so crass."

"Get used to it, baby. You signed on for _life_."

They stayed like that until Nagato came knocking on their door to take them to the stadium.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lyft thing actually happened to me at PAX Prime and it was kinda horrifying lol. Also, the video thing is based off of a lot of promo videos you see for major esports tournaments. If you've never seen one, I suggest watching a League of Legends world championship trailer for reference. They're pretty boss.


	22. Chapter 21

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the fourth day of the _Shippuden_ World Championship.” Genma flashed that winning smile at the camera and gestured at Anko. “I’m Pumpkin, and I’m sitting here with Sado on the casters desk as Hidden Mist and Leaf Esports finish setting up for the first match of the day.”

“That’s right, and I feel like I’m about to jump outta my skin with excitement, because things are _intense_ here at Madison Square Garden. Even between the fans, there is a fierceness in the air as teams return to face old rivals, while others come to Worlds to establish their names in history.”

“Never, in the history of esports, have we ever seen a prize pool of this magnitude,” Genma tacked on, “Twenty _million_ dollars is on the line, with ten million being awarded to the team that takes home the trophy, and title of world champion.”

Deidara leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. “Awe, man, do they really gotta keep bringing up the stakes?”

Konan rubbed his back. “You’ll do great,” she crooned, “Don’t worry about the prize. Just focus on playing.”

“When do we get the practice room? I’m sick of sitting out here in the waiting area!”

“We can start practicing in a couple of hours,” Nagoto explained from where he was sitting in a corner looking at whatever was on his tablet, “Watch the game. Pay attention to what the other teams are doing.”

Itachi reached for Kisame’s knee, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since arriving to the stadium. “Are you alright?”

He set down his water bottle with a gusty sigh. “Yeah,” he grumbled.

Nervous, like the rest of them, it seemed. Itachi gave his knee a brief squeeze, wishing he had something to say to lift his spirits. With Nagato’s instructions in mind, he turned his attention back to the television set to pay close attention to the match playing just down the hall from where they sat, waiting for the practice room to become available.

 

* * *

 

Itachi stared at the screen, eyes unwavering. Next to him, Kisame sat slumped in his seat. Deidara sat outside of his peripheral view, but he could only imagine that the thump that shook the table was him draping himself over his controller.

He couldn’t remove his headset, not yet ready to hear the cheers of the crowd in full-force. A dull roar came from the stands, coming from thousands of excited fans who had just watched their favorite team win the title of world champion.

A team that…

Wasn’t them.

Finally, after what may as well have been an eternity, Itachi’s dark eyes drifted over the monitor to watch Naruto and his teammates lift the glittering silver cup from where it sat on the podium. He looked back at the monitor – at the end-game splash on the screen.

Leaf eSports Wins

“’Tachi..?”

He looked away from the monitor to catch Kisame’s gaze. He looked uncertain, shaken. Itachi took his hand in his own, holding tight. His free hand removed the headset, his only protection from the roar of the stands.

Of course things would turn out this way. The way they had to keep themselves a secret from their own team, the way they nearly had themselves thrown off the team by coming out during a post-game interview, fucking like animals in a hotel room as opposed to the romantic love-making Kisame had been hoping for… Nothing about their relationship was conventional – things never went as planned, for them. It only made sense that their decision to dip out of the scene after claiming Worlds wouldn’t go exactly as they had hoped.

Still, this wasn’t the worst outcome that they could have imagined. They were still in second place, and they gave Leaf eSports one hell of a fight – they went to five games, which came out to over six hours of gameplay. Not like Itachi could remember most of it, he was so tired.

And they were still getting five million dollars as prize money; after the half-and-half split between the team and the organization, that meant they each would be taking home half a million. It would be more than enough For Itachi to support Sasuke while they both went to college, and would give them enough cushion to be picky about the jobs that they wanted to take, afterwards.

It was a massive blow to their pride, and he still felt let down, but Itachi couldn’t find it within himself to be upset. Isn’t this what he had always wanted? To be able to survive on his own?

Eventually, Konan made her way onto the stage to usher them out of their frozen states. While she hauled Kyusuke and Deidara from their seats, Itachi felt himself being pulled up from the rolling chair by his fiancé, then gathered in his arms.

“We did good,” Kisame murmured, lips resting against the shell of his ear.

Itachi nodded. He was right – Leaf just played a little better.

He brought his hands up to rest over the swells of Kisame’s chest, sighing contently.

“Are you ready to say goodbye?”

“I’m ready to start a new life with you.”

Itachi smiled, and stepped back to take Kisame’s hand in his own.

Together, they walked off of the stage.

Together, they turned the page to a new chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's address the elephant in the room. I haven't updated. In a long time. And this ending is shit.
> 
> But I just... Can't. With this story.
> 
> I started writing this forever ago, but I put off publishing it because I came across FlameofArcana's Little Changes and was a little nervous because they were REALLY similar. And Little Changes was infinitely better. But, eventually, I made some changes (it wasn't meant to be an esports story) and published it because I haaaate wasting time spent writing. And I told myself that there was no way that the stories could remain similar. But they DID. Not in every aspect, mind you, but in a lot of aspects. That's why I wrote it so that Itachi didn't know Sasuke was his brother. That's why shit went absolutely crazy with him getting hospitalized and that throat fucking scene like seriously what the hell. This story turned into a mess because no matter what I did, unless I did some off the wall shit like that, it seemed like every chapter we posted had some sort of similarity. There were times I would even scrap an entire chapter (which I did, because the final chapter was supposed to be Itachi confronting his abuser) just to steer clear of it.
> 
> And I still got a LOT of shit for it. A lot. Mostly in PMs, but there were some pretty awful people in the comments accusing me of all sorts of shit (because, mind you, FoA's chapters usually came out first). The original draft for this story was really good, and it just devolved into this pile of trash and I honestly hate it. It's awful. And I'm sorry it turned into this convoluted Pretty Little Liars-esque mess.
> 
> And that's why I've been quiet about it. Because I just want to pretend that this story doesn't exist. I've been rewriting it into a visual novel, which you can keep up with on Twitter @StudioSenpai . I went back to the drawing board, returned it to what it was supposed to be, and I'm a lot happier with it. So. There's that. As for this, I just... I'm just tired. I'm sorry. I know you all wanted some kind of closure but this is the best I can honestly manage.
> 
> Also the prize pool thing is based off of The International 2017's prize pool so the timing works.


End file.
